Soul Searching
by Rayless Night
Summary: 16 oneshots. Gig, Revya, souls, and plenty of other stuff that shouldn't be studied too closely.
1. Keeping Up Appearances

_Disclaimer: __Soul Nomad and the World Eaters__ is the property of Nippon Ichi Software. Rating is for violence, profanity and non-explicit adult themes._

_Author's Note: Here's a slew of oneshots from different points of view, in different lengths, in different genres. They aren't in chronological order. Each chapter is a separate story.

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Soul Searching

1. Keeping Up Appearances

Ruvina was a small town two miles left of Nowhere. Lance wasn't exactly sure where he was, but he knew enough to be certain that he was on his way west to Orviska, flesh-pot capital of the world. He also knew he was ahead of Dirk in this game, Dirk with that affected romantic drawl thing that drove the girls gaga. Well, Dirk could gaga his way to hell and back, Lance would still come out ahead.

He planned on spending fewer than twenty four hours in Ruvina; he'd been there two and half, having spent the last fifteen minutes watching the red-headed chick with the sword. This might be doable. Might. Chicks with swords always felt like they had something dumb to prove.

The more he watched her, the more he convinced himself it would be doable. It would have to be; she was the only decent female he'd seen, including that psycho green-haired Sepp who had nearly killed him when he'd cut in line in front of her at the hotpod booth. The redhead didn't seem to be with anyone in particular. She'd been sitting alone on the edge of the fountain for more than five minutes, elbows on thighs, watching the meager crowd. She didn't have the greatest body, but she didn't mind showing off what she had. She probably carried around that freakish claymore thing because she felt alone and unprotected. That always helped.

Lance decided to go Sensitive. Stepping into the shadows between two shops, he tucked the two daggers he fought with inside his long worn coat. Digging in his haversack, he withdrew a ribbon, with which he tied back his long black hair. Finally, he produced his mother's battered copy of _Sonnets of Soul Searching_, tucking it under his arm so that it looked sufficiently casual, but also so that people could see the writing. Then he stepped out into the full light of day.

"Excuse me," he said, pitching his voice to a slightly reedier tone. She looked up, and he was startled to see she had red eyes, but he went on. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

She didn't smile; nor was she hostile. "Go ahead."

Lance perched next to her, allowing eight inches of space between them, already rehearsing what he'd tell Dirk: _Ruvina was easy; met this red-eyed broad with a black sword. Ah, no, nothing scares me. She acted tough but those eyes were lonely._ He turned away from her, very carefully opening his book, letting it fall to page eighteen. He lowered his eyes, peeking through his eyelashes to see what she was doing. She seemed lost in thought, her eyes not quite focused on anything in the town square. After a moment, she frowned and shrugged at nothing in particular, then seemed calm again. Nervous. Undoubtedly the pheromones were kicking in.

Lance smiled down at his book, letting the silence build for fifteen seconds. Then he heaved a deep sigh. "Beautiful." Of course he sensed her turn to him, but he didn't look up just yet. "Just...brilliant." Then he lifted his eyes to hers, eyes brimming with overwhelming literary appreciation. "Are you by chance familiar with the works of-" he couldn't remember who wrote the book "-the greatest genius of any age? The composer of _Sonnets of Soul Searching_?"

The redhead missed a beat, but again, there was nothing nasty in her tone. "No."

He spread his lips in that smile that Melodia in Raide had said was fascinating. "Well, just indulge me for a moment." He cleared his throat, giving the sonnet the briefest glance before launching into it.

_O wake thou nestling glimmer_

_Thy baptismal moon hath come._

_Beneath its silver shimmer_

_Thy chrysalis comes undone._

_Dance to my arms-_

"The hell sorta tripe _is_ this? Is that poetry or is your brain leaking syrup and rose petals?"

Lance whipped around, looking for the man who had interrupted him, heart thumping like a baby bunny in his chest. Dammit, it was always bad when boyfriends showed up.

But, twist his body and neck around however he might, he could find no evidence of a third party having butted in. Lance turned to see if the redhead were startled. She wasn't looking at him; her lips were pressed tight together, and she drummed her fingers against her knee.

"Well," Lance said, injecting smoothness into his voice, "I'm sure you see the... basic idea of what I mean."

She nodded, lips still tense. Maybe she was resisting the impulse to cover him with burning kisses. Nah. Not yet.

He gestured - Yelena in Astec had said he had nice hands - and said, "My name is Lance. I'm a scholar from Nascosto, on a pilgrimage to the Sage Fasullo's tomb. Outside of Orviska." He then sat back and waited for any number of questions. He'd had a lot of time to fabricate his story, and he could rattle off the hypothetical location, industry and local government of Nascosto, as well as the areas of study, lore and instruction Sage Fasullo would have contributed to, had he ever existed. Not that girls usually asked; all that was in case parents entered the equation.

The redhead swallowed. "My name's Revya."

Lance widened his eyes for a moment, as though in surprise. "That's a beautiful name. I've never heard it before." He glanced up at the sky for a moment. "It's like - like sunlight..."

"What's the name of your pathology?" said the same male voice as before. As Lance turned around, he heard Revya clear her throat, hard. Still seeing no intruder, Lance rubbed his forehead. True enough, he hadn't been getting a lot of sleep lately. And that sounded like something Dirk would say, on a smart day. Was he having audible hallucinations of his rival?

Nah.

"So," he said, his voice falling back into its rehearsed smoothness, "you look like you're traveling." He nodded at the black claymore, which she wore ostentatiously on her back. "Very impressive. It's good to see a woman capable of protecting herself."

Revya shrugged, her curled fingers pressed against her mouth. Probably that close to biting her nails with embarrassment. Maybe he should've kept the swords out, tousled his hair, removed his shirt and gone for Heroic Fighter mode instead of Sensitive. Girls were great when they got all weak and trembly.

No, no, melting her battle-hardened exterior with his sympathy and insight was the way to go. She was traveling, probably tired. She was alone, no one to talk to. She'd probably been secretly hoping for an encounter like this. Besides, Lance had been able to seduce that swordfighter back in Olna Village, and she'd been a hardcore Sepp. So far, that had been the only time Lance had worried about losing his bet to Dirk: Who could sleep with a girl in each village from Telis Town to Orviska? All along Lance had stayed ahead, and he wasn't going to let that change.

She wasn't talking. Lance shuffled around for a comment about feelings. "Do you like traveling? Do you get lonely?"

Revya lowered her hand, and a smile flickered over her lips. "No. I'm...not as alone as I used to be."

Lance had to think a moment to flip that to his advantage. "I'm glad to hear that. Loneliness is a terrible thing." He raised his hand to the sky. "We are not meant to be alone."

She shrugged. "Sure, all right."

"Revya." He tucked _Sonnets_ back into his jacket and leaned forward, creasing his forehead just enough to look intense. "I - forgive me - I know this will sound odd. Do you believe that people are pulled together by invisible strings of destiny?"

Her red eyes went slightly blank for a moment, then glanced to the side, very much in the manner of one who has no idea what to say.

"I know it sounds daft." Lance pressed his fingers to his forehead, closing his eyes. "Damn, I can never express these things in words. I just thought - when I saw you - It was as though - as though I wasn't on my pilgrimage anymore. As though I'd come to Ruvina just to meet you." He opened his eyes, and sure enough, he was looking straight into hers. "But that's impossible. Isn't it? We've never met, have we?"

Revya sat up straight. Inwardly, Lance smiled. He knew the body language. She was trying to reestablish formality and control. But she kept giving herself away, her eyelashes fluttering down, her eyes not looking at him. She seemed distracted, probably locked in a mental argument, chastising herself for the sudden outpouring of tender sentiment rising within her like a...like a...a bubble-bath.

"Revya..." He pitched his voice to a throaty whisper, leveling his eyes with hers. "...I think we must have met in our past lives...Perhaps we were friends, or perhaps...something else... Revya, I beg of you, please say something."

Revya swallowed again and spoke, also in a hushed whisper: "I think you were a cow turd in your past life."

Lance jumped to his feet, whirling around to face that same male intruder while backing incredulously away from Revya. She, for her part, had covered her face with her hand.

"Where?" Lance demanded in his real voice. "Where the hell is he? Did you-" He didn't finish the statement. He had not, he had _not_ seen Revya's lips move as that male voice spoke. She did _not_ have a masculine voice. He had _not_ been about to proposition a cute cross-dresser. He glanced at her clothes again. No way was she a cross-dresser. He swung around, still searching for the intruder. Obviously, Revya had been _about_ to speak, had been forming her words just as that eaves-dropper horned in.

"Whoo! Great air-time! But it's gonna take more than that to impress me."

Lance clenched his fists, debating whether he should call the man out - perhaps challenge him to a duel - that would help his cause with Revya - or just leave and try for that semi-cute woman he'd seen at the bakery. She had three kids, but still, she didn't look too bad. Or would the intruder just follow him there too? Oh hell, had Dirk caught up with him? Was he trying to ruin his, Lance's, perfect score?

Just then, the ground shook. Lance nearly fell over. Revya stood and grasped the fountain ledge with one hand, stabilizing herself. It was over in a moment. As the dust cleared, he was aware of her muttering, "Another one."

"Um. Yeah. Earthquake." Everyone else in the square was picking themselves up. Maybe now the intruder would have finally left. "It's - it's terrible, isn't it?" He scavenged for something poetic. "Like - like the earth's crying."

Revya paused in the act of finger-combing the dust out of her hair. "Just a bit."

Encouraged, Lance stepped closer to her, reaching to bury his fingers in her hair. "Allow me-"

"Er - _no_-"

"-can't get it out by yourself-"

"-I'd rather you didn-"

"-I insist-"

"Buzz off!" shouted two voices at once. Revya's and the intruder's.

Lance was likely to develop whiplash if he didn't stop craning his neck around, searching fruitlessly for that interfering no-goodnik. When he turned back, he saw that Revya's eyes were wide with surprise. She touched one hand to the base of her throat, then, for some reason, looked down at her navel.

Instinctively, Lance was still trying to spin things in his favor. "Did you hurt yourself? Do you need help?"

"No." She didn't look up, almost as though she weren't really aware of him. "I just didn't know we could talk at the same time."

"It probably takes extreme circumstances. Shit-face there is pretty bad," replied the intruder's voice.

Lance fell back several steps, nearly falling back onto his rear. He had distinctly seen her lips move. "You're - what the hell?"

"Look, kid," the voice - Revya - the voice? - continued, "if you're desperate to get laid, that's your own sorry problem, but you are not doing it while I'm here. I have no desire to be part of some little threesome-"

"Don't worry, Gig, I'm not," Revya interrupted - if she were interrupting. "Your virtue's safe with me."

"Virtue?" the intruder's voice expostulated. "This has nothing to do with virtue! I just don't want to-"

Revya looked up, noticing Lance's horrified expression. "We've blown the cover again."

"Ah hell," said the other voice. Lance watched in fascination as the voice issued from Revya's lips, though her expression didn't alter to match what she was saying. "I don't see why you're so hung up on pretenses. When was the last time I got us into trouble?"

Lance's voice came abruptly, like a quack. "What is-"

Revya hesitated a moment, then shrugged. "It's whatever you make of it." She turned to go.

"You're schizophrenic," Lance squawked, backing away. "Y-you have two personalities!"

"This is your fault, you know." Revya grimaced down at her navel.

"You're talking to your stomach!" Lance wheezed. "You've got some weird schizophrenic pregnancy thing going on!"

"_My _fault?" the schizophrenic imaginary unborn baby asked. "I told you straight off to cream him. Why'd you let him read you poetry?"

She didn't look too upset by her delusion, merely resigned. "You know I'm not here to make trouble."

The aggressive side of her personality was persistent. "Dammit, kid, you never do what I want to do! C'mon, you want to rearrange this one. You know it. _I _know it. I can read your mind."

Revya crossed her arms. "You can't read my mind."

"How would you know?"

"Because I can't read yours. It only makes sen-"

"Holy crap!" Lance wailed. "You're a passive-aggressive split-personality freak with a pregnancy fetish and they're letting you walk free with a sword?" He whipped around, facing the now rather large crowd of onlookers. "Aren't there any soldiers here? Is there a prison?"

At the word "prison", Revya looked up, her gaze sweeping the crescent of gawkers. When she spoke, it was in her normal voice. No - what was Lance thinking? The crazy thing probably didn't have a normal voice.

Revya held up a warding hand. "No trouble here. Er - I'll be going."

The crowd parted to let her pass, much as Lance wanted them to restrain her. He didn't feel safe being in the same world where people like that were allowed to run loose.


	2. Same Old, Same Old

2. Same Old, Same Old

He'd been doing this nearly every day for four years. He wasn't complaining, as boring as the work was. It paid the bills that sadly had become necessary. And he came to know most of the travelers that passed through the city, either by sight, name or profession. But nothing much ever happened. He'd wake up, clop to the front gate, always so dusty in summer, so dry in winter, and ask himself what it would be like if this were finally the day.

Sleeping Beauty was a shadow on the distance, sometimes visible when it wasn't too cloudy, often trembling in the heat-shimmer. He didn't envy Feinne her half-awareness, locked in confusion. Served her right; there was always something wrong about that one. But still, he was grateful she'd come to rest where she had. No one could get to him, at least his shell. Thuris was who knows where. But if the bastard ever returned for his World Eaters, he'd find Feinne in plain sight.

So would a certain guard.

But for now, it was drudge work. The high points of his life came when some drunken tough tried to make trouble; that was good for a little knuckle-polishing, but not nearly enough to satisfy him. He was waiting for the sight of his enemy, returning to Orviska, then his blaze of glory.

He was restless that day. His skin itched, as though hundreds of spiders were skittering across his shoulders by turns. His legs ached if he stood still too long, so he stamped his hooves, raising stale dust. He wanted to run. He wanted to search. He wanted to hurry up and end this pathetic pretense. When a maggot with a black sword on her back crested the hill in front of the city, he was more than ready for a challenge.

Despite his readiness, he wasn't ready for what he found.

The bastard was stuck in a sword? And somehow stuck sharing a woman's body? The hell? He hadn't believed the stories that Gig had been killed. Ten years ago, he'd heard Gig's soul cry out, which confirmed his hopes: killing Gig was_ his_ destiny. And here it was, worse than being killed. He wasn't sure whether Gig was servant or master here, he only knew that he was physically closer to Gig than he'd ever been. Though tucked close to his body, the steel knife he always carried suddenly felt cold.

However, when, trekking across the wilderness, the opportunity came for him to cut out and reunite with his real body, he didn't take it. Even when he was standing so close to the meat lump he could have stabbed her before she had time to reach for her weapon, he didn't do it. She was using Gig to destroy the World Eaters. And, reasoning it out, the guard saw that having Thuris and Feinne out of the picture could only help his plans.

Other times, it was all he could do not to kill the two of them. He was sure Gig didn't recognize him - how could he? Honestly, it was a miracle _he_ had recognized Gig, bound as they both were in weak mortal sacks. What a position to be in. Gig was as much of a smartass as ever, but most of the guard's indignation was a show. He'd been insulted by Gig often enough before. It was more than worth it turning the tables, using Gig to facilitate a World Eater's conquest.

So he returned to waiting. He'd done that before.


	3. Debris

3. Debris

Danette let out a small squeal as Gig's form disappeared in a fury of smoke and fire, the unified Drazilian masters exploding. The ground heaved and bucked, throwing her into the air; the impact of landing slammed up her spine. The monsters were lost in blooming surges of smoke, tall fountains of sparks. It was so hot, she could feel her eyeballs drying, but she didn't look away. Where were they? Had he killed them?

"Hey!" she bawled, hardly able to hear her own voice over the roar of the collapsing monsters. A glittering black fluid rolled across the ground in widening, glossy ripples. Danette darted away, not wanting to find out whether it was blood or something worse. "Get back here! I can't leave without you!"

The sudden tilt of the floor wrenched her off balance, throwing her down on her hip. Before she could do more than flail out her arms, she was tumbling downslope, her vision filled with sparks, or stars, or that glittering blood. Sometimes the columns of smoke looked like trees, underlit by red. Sometimes the smoke looked like an airy black rockslide, poised to crush her. She seemed to fall for hours, yet in all that time, she couldn't force a single coherent thought through her head. Gig would find six ways of saying she was no worse off than usual...unless he'd killed them both-

Pain broke her shoulder open when she landed, lights exploding in front of her eyes, her breath feeling too big for her stomach. Then the popping lights widened and diffused - she was in the Drazilian palace again, in one of the rooms they'd dashed through - how long ago? There was a hole in one wall of the vast chamber, clogged with chunks of masonry and something that looked like it might be the monsters' flesh. She floated on a piece of wreckage, the black blood slowly forming a shallow lake.

Every nerve shaking, she sat up, the black blood slicking off her like oil, leaving her skin clean. An already-angry red bruise rioted up her hurt shoulder, but that seemed to be the worst of her problems... No! Wait-

Danette went sprawling as something crashed into her, nearly falling off her raft. Flipping onto her back, she saw a nest of tangled red hair pressed against her arm, attached to a bedraggled, but intact, body.

"Hey!" Danette picked up Revya's face in both hands and tilted it up. "Hey, wake up! You aren't bleeding - How on earth aren't you bleeding? Wake up! He didn't take your soul? Or your brain? Was he lying? He-e-e-e-ey!"

After a moment, Revya's eyes blinked open - dropped closed, staying closed a long moment until Danette rattled her head back and forth - and then opened for good. Not wasting time asking what was going on, Revya pulled away and sat up, her gaze sweeping across the marble chamber and its sea of debris.

"You're alive. Great!" Danette clapped her hands together once. "Now to get out of here. Don't worry, I'm here to take care of you." She stood, spreading her legs and rotating her hips to keep her balance. "Look, there's the doorway. Let's get somewhere we won't drown." She looked over her shoulder. "All ri - Are you hurt?"

Revya was still on hands and knees, her head low. One hand was prodding her stomach. Danette couldn't see anything clearly from her angle, but she didn't see any blood, nor any sign of broken bones. "Hey?"

In a swift motion, Revya brought her fist down on the raft. Not hard. Not repeatedly. One movement. Through the bright strands of her hair, Danette saw her eyes close in a sudden grimace.

Danette had her arms around her shoulders in an instant. "Don't worry, we'll find a healer, we just need to get out of-"

"I know." Revya stood, careful not to throw Danette into the wreckage. Her cheeks glimmered with sweat, and though her voice rasped slightly, her chin was set with determination. "Let's go."


	4. Come Home

4. Come Home

By Apis, it really didn't change here. Grunzford swung his low-slung head from side to side, taking in the village he hadn't called home for ten years.

It wasn't fair, he'd said back then. Grooming a child - practically raising a child to be the vessel for a power they weren't sure _they_ could handle. Good intentions be damned, they had no right to play with her life like that.

"Do you think for a moment," Virtuous had said, her voice as cool as her green eyes, "that anyone who comes here will not be loved?"

She seemed to have made good on that. Grunzford, much as he didn't want to admit it, had been surprised during his travels with Revya, surprised at her desire to return home. "Don't you realize they custom-made you?" he wanted to demand. "Don't you see you're a means to an end?"

He grimaced when Revya talked about mock-fights with Danette during her early years in the village. Didn't she realize it had been training for something far more serious? Revya talked about how Ben used to take her out of the village and teach her meditation; he even abandoned her once, forcing her to live on her own for two days in the wild. Revya confessed she'd been upset at the time, but it had taught her that getting upset accomplished nothing. She still liked to meditate.

"They were priming you," Grunzford wanted to argue. "They were making you self-sufficient so you could cope with their plans for you."

But Grunzford had learned much earlier than Revya that getting upset accomplished nothing. And he'd decided that now Haephnes' and Virtuous' plan had been put in motion, he would do well to help them.

That didn't mean he was eager to return home.

"But, Uncle." Tricia had looked up from stroking Rockum's head (which was in her lap). "Don't you think you're being a bit blockheaded?"

Grunzford raised his shaggy eyebrows. "Excuse me, Trish, I taught you that word, and trust me, it never applies to myself."

She'd smiled, her left cheek dimpling. "Well, why do you think your old friends won't want to see you again?" She gestured around Vangogh's front yard. "You don't need to worry anymore, we're all safe. It's not as though you need to stay away." But then she bent her head and began scratching Rockum's ears in earnest and didn't bother Grunzford any more about it - and _that_ was his defeat.

Now he stepped slowly into the village square, a bit off-put that the guards hadn't recognized him. After a moment, he realized how gingerly he was placing his hooves, as though he didn't dare make any noise. Really. Hadn't he visited the village during the war? Well, yes, but that was different. That was necessity. This was-

"Slinking back, are you?" demanded a familiar voice.

Grunzford turned just in time to headbutt Ben, his fellow Redflank. "Slinking? I don't slink. Doesn't an old hero deserve a better welcome?"

Ben snorted and rolled his eyes. "Danette and Revya have been back nearly a year. What kept you?"

"I was helping Tricia put Vangogh's farm in order," he said precisely. Quite precisely.

"Well that's good." Ben crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. "Lady Virtuous wants to see you."

Had Grunzford been fifty years younger, he would have stamped a hoof in surprise. "How does she know I'm here?"

Ben shrugged. "Dunno. She's only the most powerful magician in all of Haephnes."

Grunzford made his way to Virtuous' receiving room. The path was somehow much shorter than he remembered it being. Of course she was waiting for him, tall and graceful despite her age. She had only recently reawakened, Virtuous' soul in Layna's body. He sank into a genuflect, then rose, putting his ears back.

Virtuous raised one eyebrow and inclined her head. "I hope you know how happy we are to have you with us again."

Grunzford refused to fidget. "Thank you. That is...generous in light of..."

"Of what you called me back then?" Wrinkles radiated around her mouth as she smiled. "An interfering, amoral iron maiden?" Her eyes twinkled. "Or do you mean the time you called me a shriveled old buzzard?"

Grunzford cleared his throat and neither confirmed nor denied the accusation.


	5. Heroics

5. Heroics

The second morning dawned...well, grayly. That was the only way he could think to put it, and he'd never been particularly good with words. Odie sorted himself out of his blankets, fumbled for his mask - what was it doing over there? Put it on. Bird poop slopped down his face. What? A bird had pooped in his mask?

"There, there," Tricia said once she'd seen Odie hopping up and down in indignation. She withdrew a flowery handkerchief. "Birds can't help themselves." She glanced over her shoulder at the world gate, pulsing darkly some twenty yards away, and even though she kept her chin firm, Odie thought her eyes looked worried. "Vitali."

Vitali glanced up from the cook fire.

"How long did you think they'd be?"

The healer went back to shredding ginger, adding it to their morning oatmeal. "It could take any amount of time. They are, after all, trying to make contact with the Masters of Life and Death."

"Well," Tricia said, dabbing rather vigorously at Odie's face with her handkerchief ("Ow! Miss Tri - eep!"), "it doesn't matter. We can wait for them as long as they need us to."

They lingered over breakfast, complimenting Vitali on the oatmeal, which was hard to dress up and make exciting day after day after day, but he coped. After breakfast, when he said he was going to go looking for some more herbs and berries, Tricia popped up, saying she'd go with him.

"Oh," Vitali said, edging slightly away from her. "Yes. Of course."

As they disappeared over the ridge, Grunzford sighed and shook his heavy head. "I hate seeing her like that."

Odie looked up from licking his bowl clean. "With Vitali?"

Grunzford dropped to his haunches next to Odie, causing the Dracon to almost topple over from the vibrations. "She tries so hard to look strong. But you can always tell when she's hurt."

Odie set his bowl to one side, trying to think of something adequate to say. "Ah. Yes."

"'Course, that's what we all do, isn't it?" Grunzford gestured with a hand that was larger than Odie's head. "We put on our brave faces, soldiering on even when it kills us. I guess that's what heroes do."

Odie lifted his chin while resettling his mask on his face. "Well, we heroes do many things, of course. Save people. Impress them. Win adulation." He realized he'd forgotten to clean the mask out.

"That isn't what heroes do," Grunzford rumbled, heaving himself to his feet. "I'm going to go do some scouting."

By lunch, Odie had his mask almost perfectly clean. Vitali and Tricia had found some late lettuce and wild carrots. Tricia shredded some more ginger over the rudimentary salad while Vitali threw together a thin sauce.

"I've been thinking about this," Odie told Grunzford in the afternoon, when Tricia and Vitali were playing some game that involved a grid and colored beads, and Grunzford was reknitting the end of Tricia's scarf, which had come undone. "A hero - a hero gives the masses something to aspire to. Something that inspires them for generations and, through that inspiration, makes them better people. They live up to a hero's ideal. Inspiration and aspiration go hand in-"

"Robe's on backwards," Grunzford informed him.

While Odie discreetly rearranged himself behind a boulder, Grunzford mentioned, "A hero doesn't make grand statements. He shoulders the burdens of his friends."

In the evening, when only a few stars peered through the overcast sky, Vitali roasted the wild eagle Tricia had brought down with a single shot. As he was serving out the portions, there was a blaze of blue light from the world gate. It convulsed, almost painfully, and two figures tumbled out.

Tricia leapt up, the first to meet them. But she slid to a sudden stop, skirts flying. Odie and Grunzford also stopped, but Vitali surged past, dropping to Danette's side and gently rolling her onto her back. "Where is she hurt?"

Revya remained kneeling, looking down at Danette. The Sepp's face was streaked with dirt and tears. Her body was limp but for her hiccuping sobs.

"Revya," Vitali snapped, "where is she-"

"She isn't hurt," Revya said dully. After a moment, she closed her eyes and pushed herself to her feet.

Vitali cast a healing spell on Danette, but it was quickly apparent that Revya had been right. "What happened?"

Revya opened her eyes and looked down at Danette again. "Gig-"

At the sound of the name, Danette curled onto her side, letting out a long mewl of pain.

"Gig what?" Odie demanded, impatient. He belatedly noticed that Tricia had her hand to her mouth.

Revya didn't look at them. "Gig saved us. He used his power and defeated the Masters of Life and Death." Her eyelids tensed a moment. "He's dead."

"What?" Odie expostulated. "How could-"

"Don't say 'what' like you didn't hear her!" Danette sobbed. "It's true, he's dead, it's true, it's true, it's true!"

Grunzford shook his head and sighed. Tricia knelt down and coaxed Danette to lean against her, putting her arms around her.

"Well," Odie gasped, "I - we - I-" _I'm the great Odie!_ he might have said._ Necromancy surges in my very veins. If anyone can shepherd Gig back into life, it is I!_

But he didn't. Heroically, he stayed silent.


	6. Stimuli

6. Stimuli

Vitali sat cross-legged in front of the cook fire, a squat, iron pot suspended above it. It was a good pot, small enough to carry comfortably, large enough to cook sufficiently, and seasoned so that it lent every dish that signature savor. He stirred the rabbit stew slowly, three times counterclockwise. It was a fine stew, flavorful, delicate...too delicate...it needed some body. He rummaged in his cooking supplies and withdrew a bundle of hotpods. Gratified, he set about mincing them, adding the bits one by one.

"Oooooo, baby," growled Gig's voice. "Where are those?"

Vitali glanced over his shoulder. Revya lay not far off on her bedroll, facing him, her eyes closed. The cleric raised one eyebrow. "It's your turn to surprise me. I thought you were asleep."

"The kid is," Gig replied, and, indeed, though Revya's lips moved, the rest of her body didn't stir.

Vitali added a pinch of oregano to the stew. "You can sleep independently of each other?"

"The heavenly scent of hotpods woke me up. C'mon, bring 'em over."

Vitali shook his head. "I'm not going to spoonfeed her while she's asleep, so what would be the use?"

"What? Hey, hey, c'mon, kid. Wake up."

Vitali added some tarragon, to give the stew zip.

"Hey! Kid! Front and center! Come on!"

Vitali tasted the stew. Too much pepper. Better balance it out.

"Honestly, kid, what's wrong with you? You're like a brick!"

The chef turned around again. "You yell at her often, I take it?"

"I yell at her as much as what's good for her."

"Ah. Well, she probably hasn't woken up because she's so used to it. Besides, she's been pushing herself too hard lately. Let her sleep."

"Let her sle-? Not when hotpods hang in the balance. Hey! Stupid cow! Get over here!"

Vitali had also heard Danette's approach, her muttering something about Grunzford's rude "Sepp comments". Her mood brightened considerably when she saw Vitali. "Oh, is dinner almost ready? I'm starved."

"Dinner is, in fact, ready," Vitali replied, banking the fire. "And you'll want to get it soon, because the hotpods are best when they're hot."

"Tell me more," Gig effused. Then, "Hey, stupid cow. Wake the kid up, will you?"

Danette sat down with her bowl. "Huh? Why?"

"Because I am dy-ing! Stop chewing your cud and get me to some hotpods." When Danette, too occupied with noshing, didn't answer, he barked, "Did you walk off or something?"

"I'm right here," Danette snapped. "Are you rude_ and_ blind?"

"Our freakin' eyes are closed!" Gig shot back. "I can't see you. I can hear you, though I'd rather not. And I can smell - smell - _smell_ the luscious odor of sizzling hotpods. Dayum, someone put me out of my misery!"

"I'll do it," Danette muttered, making one hand into a fist.

"Come on, cow-pie, what do I have to say? Just wake the kid up."

"And then what?"

There was a long silence. Then, taking a deep breath, Gig said, "I promise I won't rib you anymore."

Danette put down her bowl in surprise. "Do - do you mean that?"

Gig's voice came more easily this time. "Sure. No more insults. Hehe."

Danette leaned over, cupped her mouth over Revya's ear, and squawked, "Good morning!"

All four of Revya's limbs snapped out in surprise and she did a sort of belly-flop as she wrenched her body around to stare at Danette. Her eyes were practically perfect circles. "What is - the - what did-"

"Great work!" Gig crowed. "Wake up, kid, and smell the hotpods! You know what to do."

Revya rubbed her scalp. "It's-"

"Evening," Vitlai supplied. "I trust you had a good nap?" He handed her a bowl.

Gig squealed with pleasure as Revya dug her spoon in. Once her inner demon had been (temporarily) silenced with hotpoddy goodness, Revya turned to her best friend of the last ten years. "_Why_ did you shout in my ear like that?"

"Well..." Danette shoveled happily into her second helping. "Me and the guy in there cut a deal. I woke you up so he could have his hotpods, and he promised not to insult me anymore."

Revya frowned. "He did?"

"Yup." Danette slurped down a carrot. "He's put in his place. It just takes knowing how to talk to him."

Revya looked thoughtful for a moment. "Did he laugh when he promised?"

Danette tapped her spoon against her chin. "Um...yeah. Why?"

Revya went back to eating in lieu of answering.


	7. Naming Happiness

7. Naming Happiness

Despite his best endeavors, everything was _not_ perfect when their guests arrived.

At least, to his eyes, things weren't perfect, and that was where it mattered. Which was silly. Everyone had always commented on how laid-back he was. He wasn't neurotic. Sure, he could be obsessive, but in the past he'd only fixated on important things, such as revenge. And scoring off little lime-headed Chromas. Well...

Now he found himself straightening the few knickknacks they had, kicking out the rumpled places in the rug, dragging his sleeve across the already-dusted table, though he honestly didn't think his guests would care. Did he just need something to do? Meanwhile, his wife sat in the rocking chair, slender ankles crossed, watching him with no little amusement.

Her sharper ears tilted toward the door. "I do believe I hear them coming."

He went for the door, and, yes, he could see three figures heading for his house. One of them - Danette, he could spot her hair from any distance - leapt up and waved. He bent his arm at the elbow in return.

Much as guests of a different nature might leave their hats at a hat rack, his visitors removed their weapons as soon as they came in.

"Good trip?" Endorph asked, finding it easy to be laid-back now that he had an audience.

"Not bad." Danette leaned her two sickles against a wall. "We kept getting slowed down by wild phynx. It's gotta be their mating season or something."

"Nice place," Revya added, unshouldering her claymore. "This is some gorgeous country." After Endorph thanked her, she looked like she was about to say something else...but seemed to be distracted by something in the corner of her eye. So was Endorph.

Danette was glaring at the third visitor, fists on hips. "And you call _me_ stupid? We've been through this before. You're a human now, so you have to follow our rules."

Somehow, Endorph didn't need anyone to tell him this was the new human Gig.

"Rules?" Gig repeated, as if it were an exceptionally foul swear word. "This isn't a rule, it's just a custom. I've seen hundreds of human 'rules' come and go in the blink of an eye. Blips. Nobody but you cares."

For a moment, Revya looked like she was going to intervene. Then she went across the room to greet the others.

"So what? If you want to see the baby, you'll have to remove your weapon," Danette pontificated.

Gig slapped a hand to his forehead in mock-amazement. "But what if I _don't_ want to see the baby? What if I'm here because_ you _dragged me halfway across Prodesto just to see a-"

"You aren't getting anywhere near the food either," Endorph mentioned.

Gig raised an eyebrow and flicked a look in his host's direction. "I've heard horror stories about wifey's cooking."

Endorph clenched his fist behind his back. "I can't imagine that anyone could ruin hotpods."

"Hell." With a grimace, Gig shrugged off the scythe he wore on his back, then crossed over to Revya's side, hands in his pockets. Never having seen Gig in his immortal forms, Endorph didn't know how different he now looked. He was paler than any healthy human Endorph had ever seen. Scrawny. Blue eyes, which was a surprise, for some reason. A simple green tattoo on his left cheek that, judging by the red cloud of irritated skin and the occasional wince Gig endured when he spoke, was quite new. He took one look at the baby in Revya's arms, then turned to Endorph. "Okay. Where's the food?"

"I declare," Euphoria said in her sweet drawl, "I am so happy to really meet you, Gig. You have the most charming sense of humor."

Gig raised his eyebrows and momentarily looked as though he wanted to step away from her.

Revya had passed the baby on to Danette. "Ooo, look at the little cute-nik!" She ruffled through the baby's thick blond curls. "Horn buds! She's going to have proper horns after all."

Euphoria folded her hands in her lap. "It is a relief. But no hooves." She sighed and looked up at Endorph out of the corners of her eyes. "I fear human feet are so bizarre looking."

Endorph managed a sheepish smile.

Looking dubious, Danette angled the baby in Gig's direction.

"Hell, no! I know what those things do. The minute you touch them, they bawl, barf and shit on you all at once."

Endorph leveled a stern look at Gig. Even if his words contained a...grain of truth, he didn't have to come out and say it. Gig didn't seem to notice.

"Have you picked out a name yet?" Revya asked.

Euphoria rose. "Would you care to talk over supper? I'm sure y'all are famished."

"I care," Gig said before anyone else. "Lead the way."

They sat at the long table by the oven, basking in the late-noon sunlight through the large unglazed window. Euphoria sat at the head of the table, the baby in her small crib next to her. "Would you like some butter for your potatoes, Danette? Here you go. Now then, Endorph and I have indeed been trying to think of names. And we were doing pretty well - pass the rolls, thank you - settled on quite a few names we liked. But the problem was that Endorph was sure it was going to be a boy."

Endorph covered his grin by taking a drink of beer.

"And when she came, we simply couldn't call her by a boy's name - if you'd like more hotpods, Gig, I have some put away - and we really want her name to be special. Because after all that's occurred, everything seems special." She gave Endorph a smile that made him fumble his fork. However, no one was looking at him.

"We're really just so happy - oh no, don't mind a little spill, Revya - and we want the baby's name to reflect that. So we've been asking ourselves, What makes us the most happy?"

"Hotpods."

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"Nah."

"Anyway, thinking of what makes us happiest was no good at all. Because I couldn't name the baby 'Endorph', and Endorph couldn't name the baby 'Euphoria'!" She giggled self-consciously. "So - Gig, dear, are you all right? You look ill all of a sudden. You sure? - we just know we're happy, and we're trying to decide whether we should call her that. Felicity or Joy or Bliss or Blithe or anything else we can think up."

"That's one giddy baby," Danette said, bravely passing her plate up for another helping of hotpod-stuffed chicken.

"Go with whichever's easiest to shout," Gig suggested. "That's all you'll be doing with it."

Tapping his thumbnail against the edge of his plate, Endorph was about to heave a smart remark at Gig - conventions of politeness to guests or not - when they all heard a series of long whooping shouts from outside. Turning in his chair, Endorph wasn't surprised to see a group of bards disappearing behind the hill near his house, several snickering.

"Oh no!" Danette wailed. "It's those Thurist crazies, isn't it?"

Euphoria sighed. "How dreadful." She laid her hand across Danette's arm. "No, dear, it's not Thurists, but they're so bothersome."

Revya rubbed her collarbone, looking thoughtful. "There was something strange about those bards."

"They're guys," Endorph supplied.

"What? No way." Danette glanced around the table for confirmation. "Guys aren't allowed to be bards."

"Exactly." Endorph finished his beer. "Those - I think there are five of them - guys tried to dress up as women and enter training. They lasted just long enough to learn a few ditties before one of them got a classmate pregnant. Kicked right on out, and they can't get work anywhere."

Gig speared another hotpod and conveyed it to his mouth. "The way you mortals screw things up." He snorted. "_Rules_. See-" He brandished his fork at Danette "-if the 'females-only' rule wasn't there, those guys wouldn't be out of jobs."

Revya, resting her chin in her palm, had been watching Gig. "You do realize you're a mortal too?"

Gig turned the fork on her. "I am on a plane so high above the rest of you that it would give you a nosebleed."

Revya shook her head and turned from him. "How do you know all this?"

"How do I-? You of all people should know that I'm the indestruct-"

"She was asking me," Endorph interrupted. "They've been giving everyone around here trouble for some weeks now. Petty vandalism mainly, not that it makes it less annoying. I captured one about a week ago, and he spilled the whole sob story." He shook his head. "I believed the slob when he said he'd get out of here."

"It's important to give people second chances," Euphoria said softly.

Endorph frowned down at his plate. "I know."

"Anyway." Euphoria drew her shawl closer around her shoulders. "I don't like it. I know they're going to turn violent. Endorph, I wish you wouldn't go out alone and try to reason with them."

Her husband spread his hands. "No one else around here is willing to stand up to them."

"I know, but what if you're hurt? You've been through so many battles, and I can't help worrying that one of them will-"

A lumpy tomato hurtled through the window and splatted Revya in the face.

In the ensuing confusion, Endorph turned back to the window in time to see two of the bards giving him very impolite hand gestures before disappearing on the far side of the hill.

"What sort of tactics _are_ these?" Gig asked, watching Euphoria mop up Revya's face. "Why didn't they use a rock?"

"So practical," Revya muttered.

Euphoria saw Endorph eye the two pistols he kept on the top of the bookshelf. She hurried to his side. "No, I'm sure they aren't worth it. Revya, come with me, I'll get you a cloth-"

Five voices were trilling in the distance, a chipper little chorale. Glancing over, Endorph's eyes widened as he saw that the would-be-bards all stood to attention, carrying large torches.

"Like hell they aren't worth it!" he shouted, grabbing his pistols and leaping through the window. Danette threw her napkin to the table, Revya wiped pulp off of her nose, and Gig snagged one last hotpod before they ran to the door, grabbing the weapons as they went.

The five bards had not come unprepared. Their plan was twofold: to burn the house down and to kill everyone left standing. And to nab all remaining food and money. Their leader, a Dracon, carried an accordion. The two humans had a bassoon and a lyre respectively. The Sepp was strapped with snare drums. The Redflank had a triangle.

"Listen, if you know what's good for you," Endorph was saying when the other three rounded the house, "you'll put out those torches, pack up those instruments, and get the hell away from here."

"You know," Gig mentioned to Danette and Revya, "there are times when I get really nervous people actually _will_ know what's good for them. But they never do."

The Dracon coaxed a discordant trill out of his accordion. "Attack in F-sharp! Fortissimo!"

Revya, used to throwing herself into danger, ran straight for the Redflank. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at her, and plinked a soft note on his triangle. The sound wave rushed towards Revya and grazed her chin. She dodged three more music notes until she was in striking range and brought her weapon down on-

Drat. She'd grabbed Gig's scythe by accident.

At the last moment she angled the scythe to a more convenient slash, which gave the Redflank the chance to dodge and her to nearly bisect herself. She tried swinging again, but had to give around, the scythe's weight and balance totally foreign to her. Grinning maliciously, the Redflank clanged his mallet against the triangle, giving Revya an acute headache right between the eyes.

Meanwhile, Gig bore down on the Sepp. As the Sepp beat against his drums, the earth shook in response. Coughing up some grass and topsoil, Gig regained his footing and rushed on, balancing his scythe's haft between his hands-

-cutting his own hand open. What the-?

Why was he carrying one of Danette's sickles?

Improvising, Gig slashed one of the snare drums open, reversing the movement to club the Sepp across the chin. The Sepp toppled. Gig would have taken the time to further vent his spleen, but he suddenly found himself sidestepping several of Endorph's bullets. The angry householder was targeting the Dracon, who was running haphazardly across the field, still playing his accordion and singing some war song.

"Not - nice - to - butt - in - on - dinner!" Danette informed the two humans, whom she was taking on at once. With one sword, she snapped the strings of the lyre, with her other, she sliced deep into the bassoon-

-except she couldn't really use her left arm, because it hadn't been trained to hold a claymore.

"Huh?" Danette hoisted the onyx blade as high as she could get it. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Revya had to give the Redflank credit - he wasn't conventional. As she swung the scythe in an ineffective arc, he parried it off the side of his triangle, his smile toothy. Revya suppressed the impulse to run, but she wasn't hopeful.

"Catch!"

Reflexively, she reached her hand towards the sound of the voice. One of Endorph's pistols landed in her palm. Deciding she wasn't worse off than she'd been before, she aimed. The recoil startled her, and the bullet flew just over the Redflank's arm.

"What are you doing?" Danette demanded of Gig, just as he came running towards her from the other side of the field. "Gimme back my sickle, you thief!"

Gig slashed the sickle towards her face. For a moment, Danette flinched, fearing the worst. Then she realized he had deflected a music note from hitting her in the head.

"Oh! Thanks!"

"Shut up," Gig growled, thrusting the sickle at her and grabbing the blade. "Okay, now I can-" He took a good look at the weapon in his hand, suddenly realizing it wasn't the scythe. "Damn."

Revya had run out of bullets; what's worse, none of them had found a target. However, she found the pistol much easier to maneuver than the scythe, so while she leaned against the scythe from time to time, most of her attention was taken up with parrying the triangle. Clang! She caught it on the side of her pistol. Tah-BANG! Triangle and pistol clashed together between the two assailants, scraping along each other as friction built, finally giving way. Revya and the Redflank both gave ground, eyeing each other warily.

"Stupid kid!" Gig panted, now having run the entire breadth of the field to her side. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Thanks," Revya said, grabbing the claymore and absently handing him the pistol. She dropped the scythe, levering the onyx blade up in both hands.

Gig dropped the pistol and dove for the scythe, narrowly missing being decapitated on Revya's downswing. Once reunited with his weapon, he whipped around to face that Sepp, charging towards him, hands poised to beat on the drums.

Gig cackled and swung the scythe high above his head. "Beat _this_, bovine!" Then he ran full-tilt at the Sepp, whirling the scythe like a propeller, ready to leap high above the Sepp's head and come down on him from a ninety-degree angle-

When he came to, Revya was leaning over him. "You forgot you can't fly and do all of your old moves anymore."

Gig closed his eyes.

"You're fine. You just tripped in a gopher hole, that's all."

Wincing slightly, Gig opened his eyes and craned his neck around. The Sepp lay not too far off on his back, panting hard, eyes bulging with terror. The scythe lay on top of him at an angle, the lethal curve of its blade tickling his jugular.

Gig glowered. "You think I could do that without planning it?"

Per Danette's suggestion, they decided to tie the five musicians to a stout tree. "We can take them to the nearest prison after we've had dessert," Endorph promised. "Euphoria's baked a cake. I just hope the...kerfuffle didn't make it fall." However, they'd hardly begun to hogtie their enemies before Euphoria came running out.

"Endorph, are you okay? Are y'all safe?"

The others remained turned away as Endorph assured his wife - several times - that they were fine, Revya out of politeness, Gig out of nausea, and Danette because she wanted those bandits to have rope burns they'd remember well into their next lives.

"Oh Endorph-" they couldn't help hearing "-you're all right. I'm - I'm so happy!"

"Funny," Gig muttered, pocketing the Sepp's thin wallet, "she's _always_ happy. I wonder why?"

"Let's call the baby Joy," Endorph cooed.

"It's easier to shout than Euphoria," Revya told Gig.


	8. Strange Bedfellows

8. Strange Bedfellows

Gingerly, Revya lifted one foot free of her flimsy tin tub. She undercompensated, tripped, flopped forward, banged her chin into the dirt, upturned the tub, and splashed cold water all over herself. Groaning, she groped across the ground, nearly knocking a tent pole down, her fingers fumbling against something rough - the towel. Letting herself swear freely, she sat up and blindly tried to dab away the dirt and grass she'd acquired when inadvertently belly-flopping out of the tub.

_I'm just saying,_ a voice in her head just said, _your life would be a hell of a lot easier if you didn't insist on the blindfold_.

Revya had answered that question many times before - whenever she took a bath, relieved herself or changed her clothes, there was a one-in-five chance Gig would say something about how stupid she was being. She suspected Gig kept bringing it up for lack of anything else to say and because he knew it bothered her; he certainly didn't suggest that she try to sneak peaks at Danette. Even so...When very young, she and Danette had been inseparable, always sleeping in the same bed. That had stopped when Revya became too bruised by Danette's inadvertent kicking to go on; still, they'd often shared a room. But ever since the fusion with Gig, Danette had said she'd do better in her own tent - "Unless you feel bad. Do you feel all right? Should we go back to Lady Layna, I'm sure she can help if you feel something funny's up-" Revya sighed and told herself she liked being alone with her thoughts anyway.

Not that she was.

_What are you doing? _Gig complained. _We're freezing, will you get dressed already?_

Revya crawled across her tent, whapping her hands out in front of her. _I'm trying to find my clothes._ Finally her left palm whapped the soft linen of one of her few spare shirts, then some trousers. Only when she was fully dressed did she remove the blindfold, rolling it up and tucking it in her haversack.

_Damn, is it me or are our shoulders really stiff? Have you been bench-pressing hippos while I'm asleep?_

_I'm not used to carrying such a heavy sword all the time,_ Revya replied. And, though she'd didn't want to get upset, didn't want to enter an argument, she felt compelled to add, My_ shoulders, not ours. It's still my body._

_I'm going to take it sooner or later. Might as well get used to the fact._

Revya knew there was no point trying to argue it out, especially when they were both irritable from the weariness that coursed through her body; simply trekking all day across the wilderness was more demanding than all her years of training. She flipped back the top of her bedroll, climbed onto the too-thin bottom blanket that served as a mattress, then put out her small lamp. Dim blue light from the full moon barely filtered through the cloth tent. Sighing, Revya rolled onto her side, pulled the top blanket up over her shoulder, and closed her eyes.

_Kid._

"Mmph," said Revya. Even having her eyes closed for a moment made her feel exhausted.

_Roll over onto your stomach._

Revya burrowed under her blanket, as if she could hide from Gig. _I never sleep on my stomach. It's uncomfortable._

_Well, I can't sleep with you on your side. I'd like to get some sleep too, you know. And less with the blanket too. I'm burning up._

_Gig-_ Revya pressed her face into her pillow and struggled for patience_ -just let me sleep._

_You'll sleep very soundly if I'm not shouting at you all night._

Sighing, Revya rolled onto her stomach and pushed the blanket an inch or so off her shoulder.

_Ahhhhh, much better. Damn, this sleeping thing is such a pill. _I_ never had to do it. Hope we don't have another of those stupid dreams._

That woke Revya up slightly, almost to the point where she opened her eyes. She instinctively knew Gig wasn't referring to normal dreams, which they had every night, separately. He meant the strange, memory-like dreams they experienced because of their partial fusion. And, instinctively, Revya didn't quite believe him. She could sense the dreams baffled him as much as they did her. Like her, he had an underlying desire to learn more. But the need to learn about their pasts was something they didn't talk about.

She closed her eyes, lassitude pressing her down despite sleeping on her stomach. The nights weren't too cold, at least. Travel had been fairly easy. She was thirsty, but no way was she going to get up after coming this close to sleep. She'd already seen one World Eater, though defeating it didn't look remotely easy...

_C'mon, kid._

Revya groaned softly.

_Don't give me that. I can tell: I'm thirsty too. If you think we're going to be able to sleep with our tongue feeling like a parched fish, you're even more delusional than that cow. _Swallowing an expletive, Revya levered herself up and crawled to her canteen, still listening to Gig. _I never knew human bodies were so needy. Eat, drink, piss, sleep. Damn, if you just handed over the controls, I wouldn't have to put up with this._

Revya glugged down some lukewarm water, then stumbled back into her bedroll.

_Damn, I forgot. Now that you've drunk something, you're going to have to get up to piss in thirty minutes, right? Argh, this is irritating. Do all humans suck or is it just you?_

A bleary thought surfaced in Revya's consciousness._ Just wait for my time of month._

A long silence ensued. Finally, _Your time of what? What are you talking about?_

_Kid?_

_Kid!_

* * *

During the innumerable visits they had at Christophe's, he always invited them to avail themselves of everything his manor had to offer. That included the clean bath house, the luxurious sleeping rooms, and the small silver dish of candied hotpods he sent specially to Revya's room nightly. While Christophe coordinated their next mission, they often had long stretches of free time. Danette and Revya, having never explored any town other than the Village, spent it seeing the city. 

One such morning, they found themselves in the theater district, both of them bored with the more staid sections of town. The streets were crowded with puppet shows and performers, including one guy who said he could mimic anyone's voice and a woman who was pulling live birds from her ears. Danette paused in front of one of the cheaper theaters, fingering the money purse in her pocket.

"I've always wanted to see one of these." She grinned. "Think it'll be anything like the ones back at home?"

Revya returned the grin, remembering how some of the older villagers had put on plays in the past. She would have paid a lot to see old Ben and Van forced to play star-crossed lovers again, Ben wearing a battered old helmet, Van a blond wig made out of hay.

Seeing them pause, the theater's doorman perked up. "Ah, do my fine ladies wish to take in a spot of culture? Come in come in!"

Danette chewed her lower lip, glancing at Revya again. "What's playing?"

"A fine heroic story," the doorman replied. "A story of passion and high drama, yet suitable for the most scrupulous of consciences."

_Please, no,_ Gig whined in the back of her head. "What's it about?" Revya asked.

"An intrepid young puppeteer who wishes to win the heart of her prince." The doorman flourished his hand. "But just when her goal is in sight, a wicked sorceress falls in love with the prince and carries him away."

_I smell food,_ said Gig. _Down that street. Away from here. Go check it out._

"What do you think?" Revya asked Danette.

She tipped her ears down with thought, then flicked the left one, making her tag bounce. "It's sounds pretty sappy, but I still wanna see one."

_Kid!_

Revya dropped some coins into the doorman's palm and followed Danette inside. _Hey. I never get to do anything with Danette anymore. I'm always too busy._

_Right. Whaddaya call traveling with her every day? _

_It won't be too bad._ That was, of course, a blind assurance, but it was the best she had.

An hour later, she and Danette blinked their way back into the light of day. "Wow," was all Danette could say at first. "That was really...pink."

Revya kept her eyes squinted against the glare of the sun. The singing and acting had not been great, even by Village standards. Things hadn't been improved by Gig's running commentary all during the show, particularly when he felt like reprising the songs, lyrics...altered. Towards the climax, he'd even criticized aloud, making Revya sit low in her seat with her hand over her mouth. She had an incredible headache, like Gig was sitting in her head, screwing in nails behind her eyes.

She remained subdued all day, though Gig spent dinner in constant conversation with the ever-ingratiating Christophe. Retiring early to bed, she squirmed in between the down-stuffed mattress and two fluffy blankets. Preemptively, she rolled onto her stomach, just to forestall any delays between her and blissful oblivion.

_We need to talk._

She winced. _Not tonight. I have a headache._

_Tough shit. That Christophe...there's something screwy about him._

_Must be. You two get along so well._

_Don't try to be smart, kid, that's why you have me._

_Well, what's your problem? He seems to like you plenty._

There was a short silence from Gig. _Yeah. And the fact is, I don't make friends. Something's up._

_Mm_, was all Revya could manage, pulling one pillow over her head.

_You know that doesn't do any good. C'mon, kid, work with me here. What do you think's going on?_

But Revya was down and out.

* * *

Much later - or it seemed much later, to the point where Revya couldn't always believe the calendars - she watched the rest of her team party at the local tavern, still stoked by their victory over World Eater Feinne. One part of her knew they cared, at least enough to go through the motions of concern for her sake. But she doubted any of them understood. She didn't understand it much herself. She stretched. At least they were heading back to the Village, hopefully toward answering all of her questions. Her wrist brushed the onyx blade's pommel. 

The sword still burned whenever she drew it. That had to mean something.

"Whew! Danette drinks like a Nereid. I dunno how she does it." Levin dropped into the seat next to Revya, leaning his battered elbows on the table. "S'wrong with you? All boozed out?"

Revya leaned her chin in her palm and tried to think of a way to put it. "You know." Unable to help it, she gestured at her midriff.

Levin snorted, putting his ears back. "Why bother? He wouldn't worry about any of us." He finished off the last of his beer, then eyed her stomach thoughtfully. "You sure he ain't dead in there?"

In one way, Revya was sure; in another, she wasn't sure enough to promise herself anything. "I don't know."

Levin set his tankard down with a sharp _clip_. "I don't care if he did save us. He deserves more than he gets." Abruptly, he stood and walked back into the crowd.

That night, Revya couldn't sleep. It wasn't just because she was sleeping on a scratchy straw-stuffed, ill-fitting mattress. Since Gig's...disappearance, she'd never been able to get to sleep quickly. Just because he wasn't there to wear her out with talk, or give her the best excuse to shut him out with sleep? She rolled onto her stomach, then onto her back, which was a position they'd both learned to live with. She prodded her stomach, feeling foolish. She knew that Gig wasn't in her stomach. Rather, she knew that Gig, being insubstantial, was in every inch of her. She might as well prod her left big toe or an eyebrow. But it was easier to think of Gig as being in her stomach; it gave her something physical to address; it was where heat seemed to explode inside of her when she used his power during battle, a dark egg of energy within. She closed her eyes, trying to focus. Gig was inside of her body, but she couldn't find him. She felt something - a presence, something alien inside of her. But she couldn't touch it, couldn't prod it awake. Was he out for good? Was he dying inside of her? Revya shivered. He had saved them. If he needed help, she had to help him. She had no idea what to do.

Nor could she forget that, right before defeating Feinne, he'd been ready to devour her soul and destroy the world.

Grimacing, she rolled onto her side.

* * *

Eons later, by the Calendar of Revya, she crashed into bed in the middle of the night. Actually, it was the middle of the morning. And she didn't crash, she sort of slumped. And it wasn't into bed, it was onto an old blanket on Vangogh's kitchen floor. She was alone but for Vangogh's wife, muttering softly as she pummeled bread dough. After a moment, Sockum whuffled over and lay down at Revya's feet, resting his chin on her ankles, making it impossible for her to roll over. 

However, she couldn't sleep. The events of the past twenty four hours had left her hopelessly wound-up.

_Who ever would've thought it, Raksha killed by a disgruntled boyfriend? Pathetic. Just what he deserved._

_I think we had something to do with it,_ Revya said.

_Damn straight. No way in hell pansy boy could've done it otherwise. _

Revya smiled. _I guess we deserve pats on the back._

_No thanks to you, _Gig said after a moment. _What was that "Let's do if for Danette" bit? Danette doesn't have anything to do with...anything._

_It was the only thing I could think of._

_You need more friends, kid._

There was silence for a long while, unbroken until Revya stretched one arm.

_Crap, kid, I was asleep there. Why'd you wake me?_

_I didn't mean to._

_Well, go to sleep._

Revya exhaled. _Fine, fine._ And fidgeted. Thwap! Thwap! went Mrs. Vangogh's fists in the bread dough.

_Okay. What is it? Why the hell can't you sleep?_

Revya fingered the edge of the blanket. _I trusted Levin._

_...Hey, I didn't expect anything that spectacular from the sister-lover either. Get over it._

_I just wonder if anyone else is-_

_There were only three World Eaters. I don't think the cow's going to pop up and-_

_But what if one of them is in the pay of - I don't know. Someone. Something._

_Great. First you're an insomniac, now you're paranoid._

_Gig..._

_Cool it, kid. If anyone else pulls something like that, they'll get the same lesson as Raksha: Ain't nothing too big or bad for us._

_Maybe so, but... They're still my friends._

There was another silence. _Someone who pulls what Raksha pulled isn't anyone's friend._

_Says you,_ Revya almost told him. _The one who says he'll destroy us all._

Perhaps the person that, above everyone else, she had to trust.


	9. Diffuse

9. Diffuse

Revya pushed away the plate of hotpods. Vangogh's face crinkled in offended amazement. "Now what in the dadgummy tarnation's wrong with my hotpods?"

Revya shook her head and tried to smile, but it was a grimace. Her training had taught her how to keep swinging a sword when her arms were bleeding and how to keep marching when her legs trembled from weariness. It hadn't taught her how to smile. "They're fine. I'm just tired."

"Oh ho," Vangogh said, swiping the plate away in high dudgeon. "Not too tired to go puddle-jumpin' across universes, not too tired to go a-god-killin' and savin' the world, but she's too tired to eat hotpods." He whapped the shutters open and flung the contents of the plate outside. "Rockum! Sockum! Y'all ain't tired! Eat up!"

Revya glanced once at Danette, still chin-deep in her plate of hotpods, then went into Vangogh's front yard, the sunlight warm as a bath on her skin. Tricia sat on an inverted bucket, laboriously sewing up a seam in one of Mrs. Vangogh's aprons, chatting with Grunzford as he fitted a new axle onto the family wagon. Odie knelt not far off, occasionally staring up at the sun and jotting notes on a complex and heavily crossed-out chart.

Revya swallowed, hoping her voice would come out normally. "How's that going?"

"Fairly well, fairly well," Odie murmured, scribbling something out. "I'm sure, with just a bit more time, I'll be able to open another world gate. It's wonderful having a new mission in life, and this one, I feel, will be very useful. I just have to align the six runes correctly with the sun and make sure there aren't too many cumulous clouds...Oh drat, no, cumulous clouds encourage prosperous magic, it's the cirrus clouds I have to worry about..."

Revya nodded. "I hope it goes well."

Tricia looked up quickly. "Oh no, Revya, you aren't leaving already?"

Revya gestured vaguely. "No point in hanging on. It's not like the queen of Orviska wants me to stick around for an awards ceremony, and..." She shrugged. "The Village still needs rebuilding. They need me and Danette."

Tricia compressed her lips and seemed to be picking her words carefully. "Perhaps that's for the best. Maybe someone there will be find a way to bring G-"

Revya gestured abruptly and shook her head, grateful that Tricia cut herself short.

"People today," Grunzford said, reaching for a hand saw to shorten the axle, "are too swift in assigning blame."

Revya stared at Grunzford a long while, trying to parse out why he'd said that, even as part of her already knew she wouldn't like the answer. Hadn't she been over it enough in her own mind this past week? But she couldn't exorcise the feeling that if she'd acted differently, pieced together the puzzle faster, she wouldn't feel so hollow now.

"I'm leaving too," said Odie.

"So you two are staying on to help Vangogh?" She already knew they were. Tricia and Grunzford had been talking about it for a while, but it was something to say. "That's good. He sure could use you."

"I hope I'll be able to travel out east next season," Tricia said as she accidentally stabbed her own thumb. She sucked the tip of it a moment. "I'd love to have a real look at the Village."

Revya managed half a smile. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, she found herself longing for home, her homesickness even worse than it had been when she first left. The Village was the only place in the world where she had felt in control of her life. That had proved to be an illusion, but it was an illusion from which she still drew comfort.

"All packed to go," said Odie.

"I hope I'll see you again soon," Revya told Tricia. "It'll be...nice being together without worrying about everything." She glanced at the house, not wanting to linger. "We'll be off as soon as Danette's ready."

Tricia laughed. "That may take awhile. She'll want to bring lots of hotpods."

Revya winced.

"Wild blue yonder and all," said Odie.

Frowning herself, Tricia set aside the mending and stood, crossing over to Revya. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Of course."

Tricia looked dubious. _You were "all right" after you learned the truth about your father,_ Revya could have told her. _You were "all right" after Shauna died._

They turned at the sound of Danette's bell furiously jangling. "All right, all right, I'm ready to go." She emerged from the front door, lugging a phynx-sized haversack behind her. "Just gotta - balance the weight a bit." She hoisted it onto her shoulders. "Okay!"

"At least we won't starve," Revya muttered.

"Fair traveling," said Vitali from behind her.

Revya jumped and spun, about to say something about how he had to stop surprising people like that - but she didn't have the heart.

They made good time their first day, traveling east. Danette spent much of it chattering while Revya listened. Despite her best efforts, she often found herself lost in thought for long periods of time, not hearing her friend. To her surprise, Danette didn't blow up at her about it, merely giving her a quick, worried look and launching enthusiastically into another subject. They did not talk about anything that had happened since they entered the Drazilian world gate.

Drazil. Revya looked at the countryside with new eyes, wild and messy, hardly fettered by the weak human presence. In Drazil, every bush had been shaped into a perfect ball or a pillar. Every living thing in Haephnes looked subtly different, even the animals, even twins. Revya scraped sweat from her face, the face worn by thousands of others before her. Her parents must have lived in Drazil, been blindly happy with their indistinguishable features and numerical names. Probably they didn't even love each other. Had they loved her? She wondered what her mother thought when she, Revya, had been born, number something or other, another tool for the world masters.

World masters.

Revya heeled her mind in a different direction, looking up at the sky. In Drazil, even the sky had been orderly, a constant deep blue, the stars in precise, right-angled regiments. No day or night, no way to measure the time but for the chimes that sounded from the palace at regular intervals. The sky over Haephnes was an ever-shifting spectrum of blue and white, violently red and gold at sunset, scattered with stars and crazy wind-flung clouds at night. This afternoon, the light was so diffuse the sky looked almost translucent, like a blue and white mist.

She'd hated the Drazilian sky, hadn't wanted to sleep under it... Suddenly she was remembering the conversation she and he had that night, and she reined her thoughts around. Crying now, after what she'd gained, would be admitting defeat.

She couldn't make everything useless by calling it a defeat.

That night in their inn room, Revya awoke from a restless doze to hear Danette crying in the other bed. She swallowed and rolled over. "Danette, it's okay."

There was the sound of a soft hiccup. "It isn't."

They visited Christophe on their way east. He greeted them expansively. "Well, well, always good to see old friends. Vitali's letter reached me four days ago. I understand you've been heroic."

They shrugged.

Days later, when they'd been persuaded to detour to visit the Nereids, Revya and Danette stood before Queen Alexemia in her receiving hall. "No words I could say would do justice to what you have done. What pains me is that most of Prodesto will never know."

Revya shook her head. "I wasn't thinking about fame when I did it."

Danette forced a laugh. "She's never been imaginative."

Alexemia smiled. "I'm gratified to say that I have good news. An old friend has come back to us. Back from the dead, as it were."

Revya's head snapped up; Danette's voice shook. "You - you mean-?" They whirled around at the sound of a footstep.

Revya felt her face giving herself away, so she hitched it into a slight smile. "Endorph - how?"

Endorph wasn't smiling; he looked tired. "This world can't seem to let go of me."

"Uh-" Danette glanced around the room. "Great!"

Revya rubbed the back of her neck. "Better to be here than not, right?"

Bit of an awkward silence.

Alexemia touched one webbed hand to her heart. "There has been much sorrow and loss. I pray that will make our joy all the greater."

That night, alone in her room, Revya sat cross-legged on her bed, the onyx blade stretched unsheathed across her knees. No flames broke the semi-darkness.

Revya's legs felt suddenly week when she returned to the Village. It still bore damage from the Thurists' attack, but for the most part, it hadn't changed. Despite Lady Layna's assassination, the villagers had soldiered on. Danette went clopping into town, seeking out all their old friends. Revya followed at a slower pace.

Her room was the same; even some of her books, which she'd scattered while packing for her journey months ago, hadn't been straightened.

She shivered. The last time she'd been in this room, Lady Layna had been alive. So had-

Why did some people survive while others died? Who decided? Was there any reasoning behind it? Maybe she should've asked him; he might've known; he might've not told her. She walked to her mirror, staring at her Drazilian face. Why had she, out of all of them, been chosen by Haephnes? Why should it matter that she'd been a hero's son in a life she didn't remember, had been too young to remember? If there was no reasoning, why should it matter that some people lived and others died?

If there was no reasoning, why should you bother dying to save something greater?

Revya breathed deeply. Pain and self-doubt changed nothing. It was time for her to move on. She lifted her chin, turned and walked out the door to catch up with her friends. If there was reasoning to be had, she needed to be awake to find it.


	10. Unbalanced

10. Unbalanced

"I promise I won't kill you," Tricia said with a tinkling laugh that would have been sinister in someone with a less-sweet face. She bent her longbow.

"I - I really think my talents could be better used in other ways," Odie insisted from his position against a tree, an apple suspended precariously between his antlers.

"No fear," Tricia assured him. "I've been doing this for years. I used to practice on Uncle, and you know he's a much larger target."

"His skull is rather thicker - YAAH!" Odie crumpled, practically melted to the ground, not pausing to look up at the apple neatly impaled by Tricia's arrow.

Levin snorted and shook his head. "Idiot. He was trying to impress her."

Vitali raised his eyebrow at the guard across the cookfire, pausing to taste the lentil-and-griffin soup he was cooking. He sprinkled in some oregano. "Is that such an idiotic thing to do?"

"No!" Color blazed across Levin's cheeks for a moment. "No - but - eh - if he wants to impress her, he shouldn't - I mean, he should trust her. Trish wouldn't play fast and loose like that, she's...she's...she's..."

"Not like that," Vitali supplied.

"Sure." Levin grimaced. "Anyone can see she's a good shot. I bet she's been doing it since she was a kid." He turned to watch as Tricia took another shot, now aiming for a cherry tomato on Odie's head. "She sure knows her stuff. Hey - Vitali."

Vitali added a sliced potato. "Yes?"

"I've - I've noticed something about Trish. I bet you have too. I've...seen it with other archer women. She..."

"What?" Vitali asked, a touch of impatience in his voice. He'd added too much oregano.

"She's got kinda a funny...you know..."

"It's her regional accent. Most people have them. You do."

"No, I don't mean that! Damn, Vitali, how could I complain about her voice? It's beautif... But, no, I meant her, uh...uh..."

Vitali looked up. The Sepp beckoned him closer. Leaning around the cook fire, Vitali lent him his ear.

"Ah," Vitali said when Levin had whispered a single embarrassed word. "Yes, that's quite commonplace with female archers. Depending on how large their breasts are, they may amputate one to facilitate the drawing of the bow."

"Amputate?" Levin squealed, his eyes wide and a familiar pale green color around his mouth and nostrils. "Sh-sh-she cut off her - She _cut_ it off? She cut it _off_?"

"Or she could've cauterized it when she was younger. That's done as well."

"_Cauterized?"_

"As I said-" Vitali added celery to the soup "-it's a perfectly standard procedure. I'm surprised you didn't know."

"She maimed her beautiful - uh - self? Just so she could - but it's - self-mutilation - what do you mean it's standard - she could've bled to death - and now she's - eh - off-balance and-"

"Calm down. You know that warriors have to make personal sacrifices for their careers. Think of Revya, being fused with Gig. Or look at the scars you bear on your own body. The warrior's life was never meant to be aesthetic."

"But she's so - so - graceful and - soft - and - and she cut herself up and-"

"Levin, if it disturbs you so much, you should just talk to her about it. She'll probably tell you that it was painful at the time, but the benefits more than outweigh the-"

"Benefits - talk to her? How could I talk to her about such a - such a - delicate subject?"

"Actually, she just binds the left side every morning," Revya told him. "Danette and I asked her ages ago." Levin jumped, as if he'd just received three bee stings to the rear.

"Ah," Vitali said, "back from scouting? And just in time for dinner. Good. All right there, Levin? Don't worry, I'll make you a stiff drink."


	11. Birthday

11. Birthday

He landed with a thud.

"Thanks, hag,_ thanks_. Really mature of you." He rubbed his lower back and rolled into a sitting position. He was on a broad flat rock high in mountains he wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. Scarf-like clouds hid much of the sky and most of the warmth. He shivered, rubbing his arms, and, looking down, he noticed he was naked.

Look at that. Being the ex-Master of Death had some definite benefits. He was able to subvert the system not only in making sure he wasn't reborn as some snotty brat, he'd managed to retain his memories - but he hadn't remembered to factor in clothes. Great. "Thanks, Haephnes, for reminding me. You just laugh your ass off in your celestial garden. Good riddance." 

So there he was, thirty seconds into his third life, freezing on a mountain top. Swearing, he stood and began to carefully make his way down.Why had Haephnes dumped him on a mountain? It would be miles before he got to level ground. Was she trying to be symbolic? 

His feet, particularly the big toes, were bruised and bleeding after an hour. After three hours, he was hobbling. He'd also sighted his goal. A village stood in shadow below the mountain, dominated by a floating red crystal in its center. He thought he recognized it, though he'd never seen much of it.. Maybe he saw movement in the streets. How much time had passed? It felt like mere hours since killing the Drazilian masters, but Gig of all people knew that time flowed differently in death. It could be days later - no... it could be centuries later.

Gig lifted his face to the overcast sky. "Haephnes, you bitch! I said I'd be back - If you've brought me back three hundred years later, your life's over! You hear me! You're the only one who hasn't died, and I'm more than ready to change that!"

He stumbled and skidded down-slope, skinning his left knee. "Damn damn damn damn. It's your fault if I break my promises, you crone. You wench. You - jerk."

By nightfall, the blood on his leg was dry and he was scouting around the margins of the village, desperate for clothes. He didn't see anyone he recognized - but then, he'd never seen much of the villagers at all. The kid had been in and out of the Village like a shot, and as for the time the villagers showed up to help battle Raksha...hmph, just a buncha old people. He hadn't seen any reason to remember them. 

He had _not_ landed three centuries in the future.

For Haephnes' sake, he better have not.

Finally, hiding behind a small rhododendron, he saw some clothes left hanging on a line. He glanced one way, glanced the other, then tip-toed (the maddest of the mad, the baddest of the bad, tip-toeing) towards the dark house, snatched a piece of clothing, then scampered back into hiding, jerking the cloth over his head. He looked down at himself.

It was a yellow floral-print dress.

Out again the indestructible Gig tip-toed, taking a bit more time over his shopping. Anything was an improvement. The trousers he chose fit. However, the shirt had apparently been built for a Redflank, and he was skinny to begin with. Oh well. 

Now what?

Standing in the yard, Gig pondered his options. He nodded decisively and headed around the side of the house, the pain in his feet nearly forgotten. He collared the first person he found, a Redflank calf. "Hey, hamburger."

The calf snorted, pushing out his lower lip. "What'd you call me?"

Gig didn't see any reason to give the calf time to think. "I need to see someone."

The calf frowned and pointed at Gig's chest. "You're wearing my daddy's shirt."

"Right, tell him I owe him. Now listen, is there anyone here called-" for a moment, it was hard to believe she was usually known as something other than _kid_ or that she had a life beyond serving as his vessel "-Revya. Or, hell help me, Danette?"

The calf wiped his blobby nose across the back of his hand. "Who wansta know?"

"_I_ wansta know, you little veal patty, and if you think I have all the time in the world-"

A shriek split the evening.

Gig whirled, and for one horrifying moment thought Danette was going to throw her arms around him - but she skidded to a halt in front of him, her hooves throwing up sparks on the cobblestones. Instead of embracing him, she tucked one of her sickles against his neck. "Who are you? Identify yourself!"

Well, he was in the right century. Probably even the correct year. She didn't look any different. "There's a greeting, cow-pie. Last I saw, you were making me promise to come back."

Her angry expression flickered as she recognized his voice, looked closer at his face. She lowered her sickle, her eyes sweeping up and down his frame. For a long moment, she seemed unable to speak. Then she jumped and kicked at his chest. "Ghost!"

"The hell?" Gig gasped, just barely dodging the full force of her kick. "I'm not a ghost! What the hell's wrong with you, did you hit your head escaping from that palace?"

Danette's hooves clattered on the stones. "You're alive? Y-you're alive - you - you - You made me cry, damn you!" Then she did throw her arms around his neck, hanging off him like a soggy squash. "It's been nine months, what've you been doing?"

Gig thrust the Sepp off of him. "Will you shut up? Where's the kid?"

Danette jumped. "Ack! I have to tell her!" She wheeled around, bell jangling, and went tearing off. 

Gig groaned and rubbed his chest, where he could already feel a bruise forming. After a long moment, he realized the calf was still watching him. "Scram."

The calf stared at him and chewed his cud. 

"Look, look, it's him! It's the guy in there - out here!"

As far as he could tell, the kid didn't look any different, though he hadn't seen her so round-eyed before. In fact, he'd never really seen her at all, not her face at least, only her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes seemed to have swallowed the rest of her face, but at least she didn't leap at him. She looked pale, though maybe it was a trick of the light, because she seemed normal the next moment. "You're - you're a human."

Gig had been ready to say something appropriately grandiose, but her words startled him. He looked down at himself. "What, is it that obvious?"

"Yeah." She stepped close to him and seemed to be studying his face. "I mean, you look like you but...different."

"I don't look _different_," Gig snapped. "I look like me, same as I always have."

"You were reborn, weren't you? That would explain it. You looked different when you were Vigilance."

Gig blinked, not wanting to admit that he hadn't even seen his own face yet. He glanced to the side. At the still-present calf. "Go sell yourself to a leather salesman!"

The kid shook her head. "This is weird." He turned back to her. "I'm not supposed to be able to look at you."

He couldn't disagree with that one; it _was _weird, thinking of her existing without him for nine months. Of her standing separately from him, both free in their own bodies. He wondered whether she'd been relieved when she realized he was dead. He shrugged. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure."

The calf sneezed and wiped his nose again.

"All right," Gig demanded, "someone get me to some food. I'm starving. And then I need a weapon, something sharp and unwieldy, so I can skin beefy here alive-"

"We have hotpods," the kid said.

"The great things never change." Gig took a deep breath, aware of how his feet smarted, aware of the cold slipping through his stolen shirt. Aware of all the physical limitations his new life foisted upon him. And aware of some of the advantages. "Lead on."


	12. Stranger

12. Stranger

Odie held up each letter in turn.

_I'm so excited for you, Odie! I'm sure you'll do splendidly. - Trish_

_Safe traveling. - Vitali_

_Good luck. Don't leave any body parts behind. - Euphoria and Endorph_

_Be careful. Dracons are notorious for biting off more magic than they can chew, as I'm sure you know. - Grunzford_

_I'm still not entirely sure who you are, but good luck, whatever it is you're doing. - Juno _

_Just be sure to pay me for once when you get back! - Vangogh and the boys_

_All the best! - Danette and Revya. P.S. Sluggo - Gig_

Odie took a deep breath, happiness rising like a cloud within him. After the years of loneliness and frustration, having people care about him was wonderful - a treasure he'd never valued until he got it. Smile spreading deep into his cheeks, he tucked the letters back into his surcoat, made sure his mask was on straight, then glanced at the sky to confirm his measurements. Perfect. In exactly thirty seconds, the sun would be exactly aligned to the sixty-four runes he'd cut into this wheat field (using manicure scissors). He lifted his skull-topped staff, ready to chant the spell that would open a world gate - his world gate - his first act of grand magic.

The air boiled around him as he chanted. Odie began to sweat. This had happened before, exactly this. He'd started working magic, everything had seemed to go well, the tension had built to its climax, then - thwub. Failure. Even if no one was here to see it now, it would still hurt. No - no, strive, Odie! Odie the Slug - no Great. Odie the Great. He leaned upon his staff, sweat rolling into his eyes. The air bubbled, coalesced, tinged purple and black. And just as Odie was about to fall over from intensity - and a little thing called gravity - the air seemed to smack its lips and a world gate burst into being.

Odie gaped.

A half hour later, he was no longer gaping; nor had he entered the world gate. He had to pack up his things. Then he had to unpack them and repack them to make sure nothing was broken. Then he had to unpack again because he'd accidentally packed in his lucky charms. Then he'd had to pace awhile, preparing himself for his journey. Then he unpacked to find his traveler's log, making an entry, aware that his words would be immortalized in magic books for centuries if this were a gate to an unexplored world. Then he had to scrub his face with a cloth because it was all sweaty and he had to look good while making history. Then he undressed and changed his undershirt. Then he admitted he'd run out of excuses.

Taking a deep breath, Odie stepped into the world gate -

- and jumped back out before he was all the way in because he'd forgotten his stuff.

Taking a deep breath, Odie stepped into the world gate.

He felt like he was falling down an enormous slide, except his feet seemed to have dissolved. He couldn't see anything. It wasn't light. It wasn't dark. It was orangey-pinkish, the color of salmon. Just as he'd come to this profound conclusion, a purple light blasted into his eyes, he slammed forward, and he landed face-first on hard stone.

Perhaps he was out cold for a while, because the next thing he was aware of was movement around him. Opening his eyes, he saw a pair of vertical sticks.

"What is it?" a strange voice said; _strange_ as in unfamiliar and _strange_ as in strange.

He blinked, but the sticks were still there, standing on end. He looked up, realizing that the two sticks supported something larger. Large and blue. And round.

"Maybe it's a new recruit," another equally strange voice said.

"They don't usually look this bad."

"Maybe it's a slave for us."

"That'd be a change."

"Think we should take it to see the boss?"

"Aw, then it'd just become _her_ vassal."

Odie swallowed. He would've risen, but he could tell the inhabitants were crowded close around him. "Hail! I am Odie the Great, come from beyond to traverse your world. I come in peace but armed with fearsome power!" He glanced up again and saw they had long, banana-like beaks. Were they birds? Sentient birds?

"Doooood," said the crowd of blue penguins.


	13. Hospitality

13. Hospitality

Even Vitali, with his adversity-trained ability to keep a straight face, couldn't help smiling at the way his fellow travelers had come to crowd around the cook fire. It had begun slowly, only Levin and Danette initially. Then he'd cooked hotpods one night, and since then Gig chivvied Revya over the moment Vitali lit the fire. Grunzford took to lumbering over to argue philosophy with the cleric. Odie listened, attempting to contribute while he darned his socks. And Tricia had taken to it naturally, intrigued by the subtle machinations of Vitali's cookery. Now as he lifted the pan of fried meat of deathblossom (possibly the only plant with meat) stuffed with wide-belly mushrooms, fresh goat cheese and minced leeks, simultaneously extracting the other pan full of warm cornbread studded with hotpods, he had the full attention of six eager admirers.

"This is wonderful," Revya said ("Inspired," Gig interpolated), biting into her cornbread before taking another piece of deathblossom.

"Where'd you get the goat cheese?" Danette asked, shoving an entire piece of cornbread into her mouth.

"Ah - well." Vitali took a moment to give Grunzford mushrooms. "A capable chef has ways of coping in even the most frugal conditions."

Tricia paused in the act of slicing her deathblossom. "Didn't we pass a farm before we ran into the deathblossom herd?"

Vitali cleared his throat and offered her more bread.

Levin raised an eyebrow. "What happened to your squeaky-clean rep, Vitali? Stealin' is stealin'."

"The goat," Vitali replied, "did not say I couldn't milk her."

"Hell," said Gig, "-more cornbread, kid - right. I don't care where the food comes from. He can make us all cannibals if he wants, just as long as it tastes good." Ignoring Tricia's grimace and Levin's "Sick.", he continued. "I said I'd spare the hotpods in my world conquest, right? Maybe I'll keep you around to cook. You can roast up my victims in a nice cream sauce. Anyway, I think - hey." Revya was holding a hotpod poised in front of her lips. "What gives?"

"Is this hotpod worth a minute of silence?" Revya asked.

"If I say no, you're going to be a bitch and not eat it, right?"

"Right."

"Thirty seconds."

"Do it," said Grunzford.

She popped the pod into her mouth, and they had half a minute of sane conversation.

"Why on earth are you a cleric?" Danette asked. "You should be running a restaurant. I'd eat there every day."

Vitali smiled ruefully. "It's a...lovely dream, but I'm afraid the world is in too much turmoil for me to set aside my talents and make my hobby into a profession."

"Nations of the world," Danette demanded, "wise up! And you World Thingies, you listen too! Everyone has to stop fighting and work together so he can feed us!"

Relatively sane conversation, anyway.

Looking back months later, memories such as that still warmed Vitali's heart, much as his new clay oven warmed up succulent breads, delicate pie crusts, and contented cats who liked to sleep in it once it was sufficiently cool. And so, when the world had calmed down and Vitali's lifelong dream had become a reality - Tranquility Grotto, house of fine dining, established 801 - he knew the best way to commemorate the event was to celebrate with the friends who had stroked his ego early on.

Of course, by then they were far-flung, but he sent all of them letters, inviting them to come whenever they were near. He expected Revya, Gig and Danette to come first, being the closest to Astec, and, indeed, within a week of opening his business, he saw the three of them standing in the entrance, taking in the spectacle.

Vitali smiled with the pride of a parent at his restaurant. By taking out a hefty loan - from a banker who relied on him to keep certain eyebrow-raising issues quiet - he'd been able to buy a large shop, put a small pond with a fountain in the center, decorate lavishly with harmonious hanging plants, and expand the dining area by fifty square feet. He walked over and inclined his head, schooling his expression into one of attentive politeness. "Good evening. So happy to see you again."

Danette's eyes were as round and large as rice bowls. "This is amaz-"

"I smell hotpods," said Gig.

"Right this way," said Vitali, conducting them through the tables to the raised dais, where special guests ate. "Allow me to wait on you tonight. And, of course, there is no need to show me any coin."

"Vitali," Revya said, slight reproach in her voice, "that can't be right. We don't want any special treatment."

"Sure we do." Gig sat next to her. "Whatever has hotpods, I'll have it."

Revya glanced at Gig, then Danette, then up at Vitali. "Are you sure?"

Vitali folded his hands in his sleeves. "Of course. We are old friends. Now then, Gig wants hotpods. May I suggest the chilled, citrus-soaked hotpods with tender young gryphos on a bed of lemon grass and snow peas? Or perhaps wide-belly mushroom stuffed with hotpods, wrapped in sea-weed, dunked in soy-sauce, simmered in olive oil, seasoned with asagio cheese, rolled in dumplings, fried and served with a side of curried couscous? Or would you prefer hotpods with meatballs?"

"Sounds great."

Vitali blinked, ready to ask which sounded great - then realized he knew better than that. He turned to Danette. "I understand from my Sepp customers that they find my buttery alfalfa sprouts with tarragon and salty flat bread very good. Or would you rather-"

Danette grabbed her horns and shook her head violently. "Agh, I can't decide. I've never heard of half of these ingredients, but I know it's all going to be so good. You pick something for me, Vitali."

"Very well. Revya, as I recall, you have a weakness for fish. We have a cold cooked salmon with soft Orviskan cheese and spinach you might be interested in. There is also baked rainbow trout stuffed with scallops, hotpods, bread and sage with a delicate lemon sauce."

"I guess I'll try the salmon."

"Very good, I will-" His eyes lit up. "You know, the salmon wouldn't go badly with a garnish of hotpods. Maybe hotpods simmered in coconut milk and ginger...or white wine...do you mind if I experiment on your dish?"

Revya shrugged. "Whatever outlandish things you combine, I'm sure it'll be good."

He bowed. "Your trust is flattering." And he skimmed away.

"Nice place," said Danette.

"What's with all the plants?" Gig asked.

"I guess it's to add atmosphere," Revya answered. "Like we're eating outside."

"If we want to feel like we're eating outside," Gig said, "we should eat outside."

Presently, a waitress arrived with two bottles of wine taken from Vitali's personal stash. "The Master is preparing your dishes himself," she said, awestruck. "He usually delegates it to his protégés."

"I'm sure none of them are nearly as good as him," said Danette, lifting her glass to her lips. "Half of what makes him so good is how he makes stuff up as he goes along. I bet nunna them can do that."

"Why doesn't he hurry?" Gig asked. "If our food's not out in five minutes, I'm storming the kitchen."

"You'll want to watch out," Revya said, pouring her wine. "Those cooks are armed with knives."

"And spatulas," Danette added.

"And tongs."

"I fear nothing," Gig assured them.

However, violence was not required as Vitali personally brought out their dishes within the allotted time. "Enjoy." And, though he wasn't nervous, he hovered, always liking to see the delight on people's faces. For so long he'd been a spy, forced to bring bad news; this was a beautiful change.

"Holy hell," said Gig, swallowing a hotpod. "If everyone cooked as good as you, I wouldn't kill anyone."

Danette chomped her alfalfa, eyes half-closed with pleasure, her ears angled limply to either side.

Revya took a bite of her salmon and blinked hard. "Are you sure you don't put some kind of drug in this?"

Vitali smiled. "I would not tell you if I did." He glanced a moment at their plates. "You know, Danette - this just came to me - your alfalfa might go well with some of Revya's sauce. Why don't you-?"

"Go ahead," said Revya.

"Hey!" The Sepp's eyes brightened. "That_ is_ good. Wow, you're creating new dishes right and left."

"One must keep oneself occupied, especially in these wonderfully dull times. Eh..." Honestly, he didn't want to interfere with their dinner, but when inspiration came, he didn't want to stifle it. "Gig, you know, if you took some of Danette's flatbread, I think it would offset the hotpods' creamy texture nicely."

Gig speared one of Danette's flatbreads without asking.

"Hey! Well - lend me some of your dipping sauce and lemon grass then."

"It's _my_ dipping sauce and lemon grass. If you wanted some you should have ordered it."

"You know..." Vitali used one long finger to tap his chin, giving in to inspiration again. "I believe her instincts are sound. Try it."

They tried it. "Holy crap," said Gig. "Bring us some more dipping sauce and lemon grass."

"If it's no trouble," said Revya.

"None at all," said Vitali, covertly clicking his heels together under his long robe. By the time he'd hurried back with the items, Revya was saying, "And more meatballs. They go surprisingly well with the salmon."

When he'd returned with the meatballs, Revya was eating entirely off of Gig's plate, Danette was blending alfalfa, spinach and dumplings into a homogenous goo, and Gig was arranging the few remaining hotpods in order of tastiest to least tastiest.

"Okay," he said, grabbing Vitali's sleeve and pulling him slightly down. "These citrus ones are definitely keepers. The seaweed kids - eh, not so much. The briny taste perverts the sublime indulgence that is a hotpod. And these ones over here - tasty, but they're missing something. They want something sweet, not too overpowering, just a little nudge to enhance their natural goodness."

"I'll try caramelizing some," Vitali promised, whisking back into the kitchens.

By the time he returned, Revya had polished off Gig's mushrooms, Danette had passed her goo off to another table, which was curious to try it, and she and Gig had divided the remains of Revya's salmon and were trying it with gryphos and meatballs respectively.

"Nah, nah, caramelizing's no good," Gig said after trying one. He passed the plate down. "Too in-your-face. The hotpods shouldn't be overshadowed."

Revya tried one. "Maybe if you mixed them with fruit? Currants?"

"Oo, yeah," said Danette, gulping down the last two. "Or cranberries or something."

"Hm," said Vitali, "maybe a mix of currants and cloves..."

"And lamb," said Gig, scraping the last traces of sauce off Revya's plate.

Light dawned in Vitali's eyes. "And lamb."

The night passed in a fervor of culinary excess. It wasn't until Vitali was presenting his friends with their third try at desert - a flourless chocolate cake topped with hotpod-stuffed truffles (hotpods had found themselves paired with just about every food imaginable that evening, including raspberry gelatin) that he began to mentally calculate the cost of entertaining his friends that night. Leaving them to their cake, he retreated to the kitchen and quickly scribbled a long stack of equations on his slate. He grimaced, then glided back out.

"Perfect," said Danette.

"Absolutely," said Revya.

"We're coming here every night," Gig promised.

"No," Vitali said, hands together.

On the long road back to the Village, the three, suffering from mild cases of indigestion, tried to reason in out. "I don't understand," Danette said. "He wanted our help. I bet he got forty new dishes because of us!"

"I feel like we ate forty dishes," Revya said softly, resting one hand on her stomach.

"Everything was just so good," Danette said. "It was like a battle. The more you ate, the more adrenaline built, and you just kept eating, because if you stopped eating, it just...felt like the world would end." She took a deep breath. "I guess that's the secret to great cooking."

"Stupid pansyass chef," Gig groused. "We get one visit - Mister Hospitality himself - Oh, friends, pull up your chairs, it's all on the house - Eat, eat, it warms my heart to see you happy - and BAM! Lifelong bans. Shit. I'm never trusting another human."

"And whose fault is that?" Danette demanded. "If you hadn't kept experimenting with the hotpods-"

Gig groaned. "Only three weeks into my new life and I've already tasted the last of Vitali's hotpods. It's all over. Downhill from here. Why'd I bother coming back?"

Revya sighed and stretched. "We'll wear disguises next time."


	14. Oubliette

14. Oubliette

Time had never meant much to her.

She'd asked for time once, and struggle, and death, all in an effort to see what true life meant. She thought she understood enough to know what to expect. She thought she could direct her destiny, just as she directed the knife into her stomach. She thought that by bringing herself low she could understand better and rise above even the few limitations of a supernatural being.

She thought that's what she'd meant to do.

She couldn't always remember.

She remembered death bursting in her stomach, clawing up her body, shoving its hands over her eyes, so heavy she couldn't fight it off. Had she wanted to fight it off? Had she regretted anything before death?

She regretted not looking back at him.

Who?

The sky was red, not as red as the blood she vaguely remembered, bright on a white dress. It was so hot even the wind was burnt, picking up charred remains from the battlefield. A few soldiers struggled towards her. From her great height, she could only make out the flashes of their weapons.

"Feinne! I see some frog-spawn's still trying to fight. Let's see some of those pretty lights!"

The voice, something in the voice made her furious. Power gathered within her. There was something wrong with the voice. There was something wrong with her. Everything was wrong. Power burst in her stomach, devouring her assailants in a wave of glittering light, and for a moment, she expected to see blood running down her body. But - no - she couldn't bleed. Had she ever?

What was wrong with the voice?

What was wrong with her?

She knew something was amiss. She never communicated with the other World Eaters, as they did with each other, but she felt their rancor.

She saw cities, but only quickly. At the Master's bidding, she destroyed them.

Why was she following the Master?

The world masters had given her to him, as they had Thuris and Raksha. What was she that she could be given away?

A World Eater.

What was she that she should devour others?

She had wanted to be mortal.

What? A mortal? When?

"Raksha, get moving! That was too close. Kill them or I'll break you like a doll!"

Battle raged far below. She ignored it, trying to think. Why had she wanted to be one of these, a flitting, soft bug she could kill indifferently? Why struggle?

She'd wanted to struggle...it was the only way to learn...

Learn? What did a World Eater have to learn?

"Try your luck, Thuris! Let's see what you can do."

Moaning softly, she tried to take herself away from the battle, back to the darkness she remembered. Darkness and...green, green as she'd only seen before cities were destroyed. Running water, unchoked by bodies. People, not mortals, supernatural beings like herself...

"Feinne! Show them how to do it!"

She'd held a knife, somehow she'd once had hands. She'd had a soft stomach, easily destroyed with one puncture-

"Hear me, Feinne!"

Pain lashed across her, as if from a fiery whip. Something was wrong with him. What? How would she know?

"Hah! Going to be stubborn, are you? We'll see."

The Master had a name. What was it?

Then, the images not fully impacting her consciousness, she could see a vast horde of soldiers bearing down upon her, more than she'd ever seen. Behind them, she could see her Master spurring them on, driving them towards her, forcing her to obey him. Mortals. She didn't need distractions. Energy blossomed inside of her.

Through the blast of furious power, she remembered. His name was Gig.

The battles continued, again and again and again. None stood out in her mind, and she had no way of gauging how much time elapsed between them. But as she felt the world go silent around her, she eventually realized she no longer heard Gig's voice, nor felt the other World Eaters as anything beyond faint, distant presences. Curious, she searched for Gig's soul; it was far away and slumbering. What had happened? The desert wind beat against her, warm as a blanket, and her questions were covered by sleep.

She dreamed circuitous, unexplained images of gardens and people, a dark woman in a white dress, the cold feel of a dagger, the warmth of someone's love. Once, only once, she thought she heard Gig's voice crying out, but he didn't call her, so she slept on. In a shifting, uneasy half-awareness, she knew mortals were around her, some who even attempted to kill her. Her body reacted more than her mind did, sending out warning shots, enough to keep the mortals away, but she did not truly strike. Striking would mean waking completely, and she felt she almost understood her questions when she was asleep. Mortals struggled and fought to live out the brief time allotted to them. That was strength, not a travesty.

Life and anger surged back to her when the king, the little mortal, dared call upon her, breaking her dreams and any measure of understanding she might have gained. She blasted away the city that had grown beside her with barely any effort. Still the human called out to her, claiming to harness her power. Little thing, alive for only a few seconds; her power swallowed him.

Confusion added to her anger. Mortals, why were they still attacking her? Weren't their lives difficult enough? They didn't need a World Eater to make their lives harder - Struggling - She had to live as they did - She had to struggle, to understand their pain - She had to die - He wouldn't kill her - He wouldn't kill her-

"Feinne!"

There was something wrong with his voice. Who was he? Her power lashed out, snaring all it could reach. Who was he? Why wouldn't he kill her? He loved her-

"It's me!"

It's me, it's me, what did that mean? What was identity? Didn't death break the bonds of the past life? Past life-?

"Bitch!"

It was wrong. He didn't love her. He wasn't Vigilance and she wasn't Resilience. He was prey.

Heat blasted against her, hotter than the desert wind, and Gig - was it Gig? was it Vigilance? was it a mortal? - bore down on her. Her stomach broke like glass, power and light flooding out. Images flashed in her mind, overlapping and fading into each other like flames. She'd asked Vigilance to kill her. He hadn't. She'd been determined to live the life of a mortal, to experience their terrible sorrow. For her sin, she'd become a creature who made their sorrows grow. For her sin, he'd finally killed her.

What use was forgiveness to a damned creature? Still, she asked for it.


	15. Refusal

15. Refusal

"Hey, kid!"

Revya opened her eyes, took a moment to shake away her thoughts, and looked down the mountain path. In a minute, Gig had climbed up next to her, glancing at her cross-legged position. "Oh. You're doing that."

"It's called meditation." She tilted her head back to look up at him. "Are you hiding from Danette?"

"And you aren't?"

Revya glanced down at her hands resting on her knees and let a momentary silence answer that one. "Sometimes I just like to get away from everyone and collect my thoughts. You know that. I wasn't ever able to do it while we were fused."

"Sorry if I had more important things to do." He sat next to her, setting his scythe down within easy reach.

"She's going to come looking up here."

"And if I see her first, she'll have a smashing concussion. Damn, why's she making such a big deal about this?"

Revya stretched her legs out in front of her. "You won't be turning three every day. Most three year olds like having such a fuss over their birthdays."

"Look, if all of you want to shower me with the adulation I deserve, fine. Why, have some hotpods, Gig? Sure. But I'm not going to spend all day on my ass writing notes to all my friends about what I'm up to and when we'll see each other again and shit shit shit."

"Danette just likes to stay connected to her friends."

"So she expects me to be like that?"

Revya thought about that, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Damn, you're all like that. Gig, why can't you be like a normal person? Gig why can't you be nicer? Gig, you're not the Master of Death anymore!"

"I don't want to change you."

"Well, you're the only one!"

"Pestering is just how Danette shows her friendship." Gig curled his lip. Revya continued, "If you don't want her to change you, then you shouldn't try to change her."

Gig seemed to think about that a moment, then laughed. "But I know best."

Revya rolled her eyes. "Maybe you should try meditation. It might calm you down some."

He whirled on her. "Hah, liar! You _are_ trying to change me."

"Gig, I was fused with you for four months. I know better than that. I was just giving you advice."

"I don't need your crap."

She stretched and leaned back on her palms. "I didn't say you did."

They sat in silence a while, Gig brooding, Revya eventually closing her eyes and trying to reclaim her meditation. She breathed rhythmically, trying to let go of each rational thought as it rose in her mind, trying to free her mind to bring images instinctively to her brain. Danette...Ben teaching her swordfighting...Cuthbert standing on a stone rampart...Shauna dancing across a battlefield...shattered Crimson Tears...this morning's oatmeal...the view of the Drazillian masters through Gig's eyes...

"Why do you do it? It looks pretty useless."

Revya opened her eyes again. He was watching her. "It's calming."

"Right. And hell know's you're a coil of wrath and brimstone."

She frowned. "You think I don't have problems?"

"Name one."

She thought a moment. "My friend thinks I'm a liar." He gave her a withering look. "Well..." She glanced down the mountainside. "I still have guilt, you know."

"For what, saving the world? Granted, it's not the greatest world, but you shouldn't feel bad for letting it flounder along for a few more millennia."

"Yeah, I helped save the world." She leaned forward, parallel to him. "I killed a lot of people to do it. Dio, who told me I was doing something terrible. All those Thurists, who were so crazy they couldn't know any better. Dozens of Drazillians who looked just like me. And I took a human's soul."

"He gave it. Hell, he forced you to take it."

"That doesn't change all I did. Maybe I did something great. But it doesn't look that way when I remember all those bodies!" Her voice pealed into a harsh note that surprised even her.

"Yeah, how tragic," Gig said. "See me crying the tears of blood?"

She gave him a level look. "You don't think it's tragic."

He ran his hand along the scythe's haft for a moment. "I'm just putting it in perspective. You know, the perspective of someone who commanded three World Eaters, butchered millions and nearly brought down civilization."

She turned deliberately away. "I guess my little hang-ups aren't worth much."

There was a long silence during which she thought he'd get up to leave. "Kid, look at it this way: What could you have done differently? And I don't mean with some grand godly retrospect, and I mean right there, in the moment. Would you have thought of anything better?"

She shrugged. "No idea."

"Exactly. Banging your head against the wall isn't helping, so why don't you stop?"

Revya looked at him again. "Do you just let go of your own guilt?"

"Shut up, kid, I'm not guilty," he snapped, but she wondered if it were a reflex.

"I suppose that's right. You were the one who saved the world, after all. That makes up for almost destroying it."

"Shut up." The irritation was still in his voice. "We don't need to talk about that."

She rubbed her collarbone thoughtfully. "Gig, I've always wanted to know... You were always able to control my body when you needed to. When Feinne nearly ate us and you took over, my choice had nothing to do with that. And what Raksha said about devouring souls... Why didn't you kill my soul when we first fused?"

He'd narrowed his eyes. "Shut up and be grateful I didn't." He picked up a shard of rock and tossed it down the mountainside, watching it bounce from rock to rock.

Revya knew when she wouldn't get an answer. "Still, it's things like that I think about when I come up here."

"Useless shit."

"Yeah, pretty much. I think about you, and you're definitely useless."

He faced her again. "Get your gray matter off me, you ungrateful little - skink."

She shook her head. "I try to meditate, but I can't control what I think about."

"Discipline yourself."

She smiled. "You know that won't work. I get distracted. Remember Raksha? In the middle of all of us almost dying, I had to come out and ask what a soul tastes like?"

"So you finally realized what an idiot you can be? Good. Now stop thinking about me."

"I have to think about you when you're talking to me. And after all we've been through... I see a hotpod, and bam, I think of you. I look at my sword, or I see people training in the courtyard, and I think of you. There are times when I look in the mirror and I'm surprised you aren't making some smartass comment in my head. Besides," she amended, "I like thinking about you. It never gets boring."

Barely glancing at it, Gig sent another rock flying, giving her a narrow look. "You trying to freak me out?"

"It'd be a nice reversal. Why, does that bother you?"

"I don't have to answer your questions."

"So I'll keep asking." At some point, Revya had closed the distance between them. "I just want to know what you're thinking." She titled her chin up. "You're not in my head anymore."

For a moment, Gig gazed into her eyes, his lips slightly parted, and for Revya, it was suddenly like meditation. Her breathing was shallow but regular, and she'd released herself from rational thought, looking steadily into Gig's eyes.

Gig yelped and swore in the same breath, flailing away from her. Revya leaned back and took a deep breath, watching as he blinked wide-eyed at her. "The hell - were you about to kiss me?"

Revya ran a hand through her hair, shaking it out. "What makes you think I was?"

"I - you - I was - you were - Shit! Whatever that was,_ never_ do that again! Do you understand me? Never!"

She sighed. "I understand you."

"Damn." He shook himself, not looking at her. "Damn, that was weird. I don't believe a word you say, kid, not a word. You swear you aren't trying to turn me into - into something else?"

Revya answered honestly. "I promise I'm not."

"Good. Then I don't need to kill you." He picked up another pebble but turned it over his thumb several times before throwing it. "And you swear you weren't about to kiss me just now?"

"I wasn't." She smiled. "Hehe."


	16. Reunion

16. Reunion

Danette straightened the curtains one last time, allowing for maximum light, then glanced at the hourglass. Its weights had turned it over three times since Gig and Revya had left that morning for Astec to bring Father Valerio back with them. Danette would've liked to go with them, but Ben had her teaching the children fighting now and she hadn't wanted to miss even one morning of instruction. She clip-clopped around the small sitting room Lady Virtuous had allowed her to use for this visit, dragging the chairs closer to the window, arranging the plates of thick sandwiches and the bowl of raw hotpods. She always enjoyed seeing Father Valerio; she'd liked him the first time they'd met six years ago. She wondered if he subconsciously reminded her of her own priest father, Mosley.

There was knock on the door post, and, turning, Danette saw Father Valerio standing in the door. "Hello, dear child."

Danette clattered over. "It's great to see you again, Papa V! Your last letter was so long, I never got time to read all of it." She pulled him towards the chairs and table. "Here, sit. Are you tired? Do you want something to drink? We have currant cordial, or I could get you some crinkleberry wine."

"Cordial will do nicely - thank you." He took a deep draft. "Ah, it was a long walk indeed. The roads are not always kind to such old feet."

"You should've made them carry you," Danette rebuked him. "That's what they're there for. Speaking of which-" she looked around "-where are the others? They knew I was getting enough food for them too."

Valerio chuckled. "I expect they're still in Astec."

Danette looked at him as though he'd just spoken backwards. "What? But - you mean they didn't escort you back? They were supposed to protect you!"

"No, but they kindly hired some archers and soldiers to take care of me; they were coming up to visit the Village anyway."

"B-but - they're snubbing us?" Danette bit a hotpod in two. "I'm going to kill them when they get back. That's just rude."

"Maybe so." Valerio picked a sandwich. "But I believe a little snubbing is excusable in this instance."

"In this instance...?" Danette's anger dribbled away, replaced with wary confusion. "Just - what are you talking about?"

Valerio frowned. "You mean you didn't know? Oh! Dear me." He began to rummage through one of his pockets. "I expect that's why she asked me to give you this. I totally forgot in my pleasure at seeing you." He passed a folded scrap of paper across the table.

Wordlessly, Danette opened it.

_Hi Danette-_

_We just got married by Fr. Valerio. Don't feel snubbed. We decided to go for it this morning on the way down, otherwise we would've invited you. We're bumming a wedding lunch off of Vitali, so we'll probably see you around dinner._

_- You and You in There_

_PS. You in There says don't eat all the hotpods this time._

"_What?"_ Danette wailed. "WhatwhatwhatWHAT? You - they - how could - holy cow!"

Valerio blinked quickly. "My dear, there's no need to resort to such vulgar language! Aren't you happy for them?"

Danette lowered the note and glared at the mild priest. "You - _you_ - how could you marry them?"

He spread his hands. "I agree, I normally ask a couple to wait a week or so before I marry them, just so they can question their hearts and decide if they're making the best decision. But I thought that, given Gig and Revya's unique...history, it was unnecess-"

"I can't believe this!" Danette nearly upset the table as she leapt to her hooves. "They're - She didn't even tell me - Damn, how could they - Didn't get my permission - Didn't even make sure I was there - Totally went off without me and - They're going to gang up against me in every argument now - and - and - didn't even invite me to Vitali's-"

"There, there," Valerio said, putting his hand on her arm. "You're overwrought. You'll feel differently when you see them tonight."

Danette blinked mutely, as if seeing a vision of her reunion with her two closest friends in the entire world. "Right." She sat down. "You're right. I sure will feel different." She dragged over the bowl of hotpods. "I'll feel full."

She then ate every last hotpod.


End file.
